


The Adventures of Stiles Stilinski ft. stepbrothers, sunburns and sixteen days of sarcasm

by Skrigget



Series: Are we related? [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Family Drama, Kinda Kid Fic, Language, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Past Abuse, Sexual Content, Step-Brothers, Step-Sibling Incest, Step-siblings, Summer Vacation, Swearing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:06:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3158885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skrigget/pseuds/Skrigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He throws random pieces of clothing into his suitcase. He’s both angry and embarrassed and terrified. Spending the next sixteen days with Derek – the stepbrother he’s madly in love with – in a tiny apartment just cannot end well.</p><p>Chaos ensures. </p><p>(part of the "are we related?"- verse but can easily be read on it's own!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why a Surprise Vacation to Germany is not a good idea

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is slightly different than the two other fics in this series. This will focus mostly (only) on the relationship between Derek and Stiles and the kids probably won't be in. As mentioned this can easily be read on it's own. The important things that happened in the two previous fics will be explained in the first chapter. 
> 
> I'll add all the ages in case the kids will make a show up in a later chapter: 
> 
> Isaac=7  
> Derek = 22  
> Boyd = 22  
> Cora and Malia = 4  
> Jackson = 7  
> Danny = 8  
> Kira and Erica = 5  
> Lydia, Allison, Scott & Stiles = 17  
> Laura = 24  
> Ethan & Aiden = 18  
> Liam = 2  
> Matt = 7

”What?”

”We’re really sorry, sweetie, but – ”

“You’re _leaving_?”

Melissa rolls her eyes at his melodramatic tone of voice but doesn’t actually argue against his choice of words. Most of all because she can’t; they’re technically leaving.

“At least we’re not making you babysit,” his father hums as he passes through the kitchen.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Stiles mumbles as he watches his dad and Melissa run around the house grabbing seemingly random stuff and throw it in their suitcase.

Scott comes down from upstairs wearing his usual wide grin and happy attitude. Stiles accepted his role as ‘ungrateful-and-slightly-moody-sleep-deprived-son-of-the-family’ a long time ago. Scott practically runs down the last few stairs and comes to a rest next to Stiles who sends him a suspicious glare.

“Why do you look so happy?” he growls.

“Allison,” he answers promptly.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “When is it not,” he groans.

“She just invited me to go camping with her mom and dad, aunt and little cousin Erica!” Scott says happily. Stiles is happy for him – he really is – because Stiles knows that his stepbrother and best friend Scott McCall is an all-around nice guy who does nice things for nice people and deserves to be happy. And Allison is one of Stiles’ best friends and he loves her endlessly and she apparently makes Scott happy. Not to mention that Stiles has had the (utmost) honor of babysitting little cousin Erica (with some help from Scott and company) a few times and the little girl who recently turned six is just adorable. So it’s not like Stiles isn’t aware that Scott deserves everything good that’s being thrown at him it is just that Stiles has a bad feeling with this.

“When exactly?” he asks.

“The next two week!”

“The very same two weeks where mom and dad are in Germany?” Stiles groans.

Scott smiles. “Yes,” he beams.

Stiles sighs heavily. “Great now I have to water all the fucking plants and have the whole house to myself for a two weeks what the fuck am I supposes to do?”

“Call Lyds and the twins,” Scott suggests.

“Lydia and Aiden is on vacation as well, left two days ago and god only knows what Ethan is doing.”

Scott doesn’t look too concerned with his brother’s wellbeing as he grabs a cola and empties it in one go.

“Don’t worry, son!” his father shouts as he reenters the house. “You won’t have to water any plants!”

“Melissa will kill you if her plants die, dad,” Stiles says because there is no doubt in his mind.

“True,” the sheriff states, “but they won’t. We’ve rented out the house while we’re gone.”

Stiles looks at his father and then at Scott and neither of them seems that concerned about him and it’s not like he demands attention 24/7 and he has three brothers, a sister and two nieces so he knows that even if he wanted it his parents time is to be devided equally between them, but he still feels like he should’ve had a heads up for this and that someone should at least care about that fact that he essentially homeless for two weeks of his summer vacation.

Isaac runs in from the garden with mud on his face and a bruise on his forehead he doesn’t even seem to be aware of exist judging by the way his eyes glitter with happiness.

Not long after their marriage John and Melissa decided to adopt Isaac – now age seven – into their family. Scott and Stiles, as well as the children Melissa have from a previous marriage, Derek and Laura, had no obligations about this and welcomed Isaac into the family.

“Hey, bud,” Stiles says. “I hear you’re also leaving me behind?”

“Yes, I’m going to stay at Laura’s!” he shouts. “She says she wants me to help look after the twins this summer because I’m the bestet at it. Even better than you.”

Scott laughs and Stiles puts a hand above his heart. “I’m wounded,” he says, “seriously. I’m on the floor crying, Isaac why are you doing this to me, you little midget?”

Isaac just grins and goes upstairs to pack his bags. The twins are Laura’s two twin daughter, Cora and Malia, she got when she was in college. It was never really a problem though and the girls are, like any Stilinski-Hale-McCall-child, amazing in any way. And loud, too. They’re turning five. Stiles have also – on the same occasions as with Erica and on several more – have the pleasure of looking after those two smaller humans. Basically, Stiles has had his fair amount of encounters with children. Usually around seven or eight at them at a time, usually with the help from his friends and usually always ending up going horribly wrong: on the infamous New Year’s Eve Isaac ran away because Derek and Stiles had an argument. And on the day school was closed because of snow and he ended up in the lake and had to be rushed to the hospital where he was unconscious for days. So, Stiles should count his blessing and probably just feel lucky that no one has asked him to babysit anyone this time but he really isn’t so sure.

“Dad,” he says and sits down at the table to watch his father search through the kitchen for someone un-healthy. “Not to sound ungrateful or anything but there’s this tiny matter of where I’m, you know, supposed to live now that you and Melissa are going away. Lydia and the twins are out of town, Laura is busy with the kids and I have no friends because Scott is going away with Allison.”

His father sighs when he’s searched every cabin in the kitchen with no luck. “Don’t worry, son, we have it covered.”

Stiles watched him doubtfully. This whole trip to Germany-thingy was a spontaneous idea they suddenly got and Stiles doubts anything is _covered_ least of all his whole homeless-problem.

“Oh, good,” he says and his father hums as he leaves the kitchen. Stiles rolls his eyes, hears Isaac scream, and heads upstairs to either a) kill a spider or b) help him climb down from the top shelf of his wardrobe where he sometimes – for unknown reasons – gets stuck.

\--

Scott and Allison are leaving the following morning, Melissa is to drive Isaac to Laura’s this evening and then John and Melissa are supposed to take an airplane the night after. The Norwegians who’ve rented the house are coming the morning after so Stiles has one and a half day and two whole nights to figure out where his father has plans to send him off to.

He could ask him, sure, but his dad and Melissa both have this aura of ‘speak to us about something that isn’t on a need-to-know-or-die basis and we’ll ground you until you’re thirty’ and Stiles likes being seventeen and free so he’s not risking that.

He helps Scott pack for his trip. The other boys goes on and on about whether you can have sex in a tent when your in-laws are in a tent right next to you, his concerns about Chris trying to intimidate and possibly kill him like that time he invited Scott over to grill and the boy ended up with a nasty burn on his hand Chris claims he knows nothing about, about whether Stiles thinks Allison really wants him there or if she’s been told by her parents to invite him.

Stiles rolls his eyes and tells him the truth: “Allison loves you, stop being a moron, you moron. And if you have to worry about anyone killing you, look out for her mom, dude, she’s like fifty times scarier than Mr. Argent. ”

Scott grins and Stiles helps him finish his packing.

After that they go downstairs to say goodbye to Isaac. The little guy is so excited he can barely stand still as John kisses him goodbye and tells him to behave.

“I will, I will, don’t worry dad!”

Scott hugs him and give him what Stiles likes to call his ‘alpha-look’. He doesn’t use it often but it’s pretty efficient; gets the job done. “Laura is a busy woman, Zack. So you have to help her out with Cora and Malia and not get in her way, yeah? She really needs you, buddy.”

Isaac does this thing where his eyes gets two sizes too big so they look about ready to pop out of his head and nods very seriously. This is no game to him, this is dead serious. “Yes,” he says.

Scott nods and kisses his forehead.

Stiles rolls his eyes and sits down in front of his younger brother to help him tie his shoes. “Don’t listen to Scotty,” he says, “run around, explore things, meet a few drug-dealers, experience the wild life of – “

“Stiles!” John hisses.

Isaac snorts and Stiles sighs. “Fine,” he says. Then he meets Isaac’s eyes and there is something in those big, innocent, yet cocky blue eyes that makes him grin. He ruffles Isaac’s hair and gets up from the floor. “When Laura gets too stressed she eats a lot of chocolate. You know that special one mom eats as well because they like to pretend it’s healthier although it isn’t?” Melissa groans but Isaac nods. “Well, look out for that. She has some good chocolate – really expensive shit – hidden under bed in a blue shoebox. Find that if she gets too stressed, it’ll help calm her down. Got it buddy?”

Isaac grins. “Got it.”

“Good,” Stiles smiles. Then Melissa and him disappears outside and both John and Scott give Stiles a mildly surprised and yet impressed stare that he ignores. He notices stuff, that’s all. Like how Isaac pretends he isn’t afraid of thunder but sleeps with his lights on when there is a storm. Or how Scott prefers _Café Banshee_ over _The Hunter and The Huntress_ but always claims otherwise because _The Hunter and The Huntress_ is Allison’s favorite place to eat, or how Melissa has told his dad not to fill the tank on her car when he borrows it for a quick trip into the city which he always conveniently forgets because he likes to do small favors for her like that.

Afterwards Scott disappears back upstairs and his dad sits down in front of the TV to probably relax a minute or two before he has to go running around the house again. Stiles uses the opportunity to go into his own room and lie down on the matrass. He thinks about calling Lydia to ask when she’ll be back but either she won’t answer him or she’ll tell him she won’t be back before the end of the summer or something like that. So he doesn’t.

Eventually he falls asleep.

\--

Saying goodbye to Scott was positively heartbreaking because ever since they were ten and their parents decided it was a good idea to get married – and even before that, probably, because they were best friends long before they were brothers – they haven’t been apart for more than a few days. Now they won’t see each other for sixteen days. Torture, that’s what it is. And If Stiles cries a little that’s okay, Scott cries a little, too. And Melissa and John shake their heads as if to say ‘whatever did we do wrong’ but they also smile and Stiles knows they just think him and Scott are being an odd mixture between weird and adorable.

Now it’s almost five in the afternoon, Melissa and John are leaving the house to drive to the airport in five hours and Stiles still has no idea what he’s supposed to do or where they need him to go. Melissa is running around cleaning the entire house before the Norwegians arrive. Stiles is helping by mowing the lawn and not get in her way. Hid dad is checking – yet again – that everything is ready for their trip.

He’s just taken a shower when someone enters through the front door. At first he thinks it might be Scott who’s forgotten something but when he rushes down the stairs it isn’t a slightly uneven jaw and a shaved face he sees. Quite the opposite, actually.

Derek, Stiles’ recently-turned-twenty-two-year-old stepbrother is standing in the hallway, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

Stiles remembers the last time he saw him; Easter. He, Laura and the twins had all been home for a few days. Derek had taken the couch, this time. Everything had been _normal_ between and of course it had been; they were brothers, nothing more, nothing less – as it should be. But, God, Stiles still vividly remembers that hellish New Year a little over six months ago when Derek, Scott, Stiles, Allison, Lydia, Derek’s friend Boyd and later also Ethan and Aiden had been babysitters to no less than eight kids. The atmosphere between Derek and Stiles had been – to say the least – tense for a several days. And then it had all culminated and they’d gotten into a stupid fight. And little Isaac who’d had a traumatic childhood until he was three was a little sensitive at times and had taken the fight badly and did the only thing he could do: ran away. And Stiles and Derek they’d gone upstairs, anger radiating from them, and they’d exchanged handjobs and filthy kisses and afterwards they’d gone looking for Isaac. They’d ended up promising each other it could never happen again. They hadn’t been able to keep that promise. A few months later it had been snowing and for god knows what reason Stiles – and the rest of the gang – had ended up as babysitters yet again. They had decided to take the children ice skating by this awesome lake and had found Derek and Boyd there as well. The lake hadn’t been frozen enough, though, but Isaac had been too quick to get onto the ice. Long story short; Isaac was okay but Stiles ended up in the hospital. When he woke up Derek was there, next to him, looking at him with nothing but love in his eyes. And they’d kissed like there was no tomorrow, like this was the last time ever – and it was! They’d silently promised each other that; never again.

And now there he is, staring at Stiles, who is only wearing a pair of loose shorts and with water dripping down his face.

“Oh,” Stiles says after a suffocating moment of silence. He swallows hard and pretends like this isn’t the first time they’ve been alone since they held hands in a white, white hospital room away from prying eyes and judgmental words. “I thought you were Scott.”

“Isn’t he out camping?” Derek asks.

“A guy can hope,” Stiles grins. “So, what are you doing here, Derek?”

Derek frowns and he looks both angry and confused which is never a good look on him (who’s he kidding; everything is a good look on Derek).

“Why are you looking at me like you could skin me?” Stiles asks and takes a theatrical step back.

Derek rolls his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

Stiles’ heart does this stupid thing where it misses a few beats and his mind supplies him with all these alternative scenarios where Derek and him aren’t step brothers and this is Derek taking Stiles out on a proper date. And ugh he doesn’t need this right now.

“I’d love to,” Stiles says. “Can I also be told where we’re going?”

“Ha,” is all Derek says and never has ‘ha’ sounded so fucking sarcastic before.

“I’m funny, I know, now seriously, why are you here?” Stiles says as he turns to go into the kitchen and fetch himself some food. He can hear Melissa and his dad running around upstairs.

“What are you talking about?” Derek asks as he follows Stiles.

The younger boy pretends his heart isn’t beating any faster than normally. But Derek is right there, right behind him, and there’s no one else with them and he could turn around and lean forward and –

“What are _you_ talking about?” Stiles hums to cut off his own traitorous thoughts.

“Stiles,” Derek says almost like a warning and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Don’t _Stiles_ me, I have no idea what you’re on – “

“You mean your dad didn’t tell you?” and now he just sounds surprised.

Stiles looks over his shoulder, doesn’t trust himself to actually turn around, and catches Derek’s dark eyes. “Tell me what?” he asks in a slow, careful voice.

Derek runs a hand through his hair – something he only does when he’s extra distressed – and sighs. And Stiles feels his heart drop into his stomach because this can’t be good.

“You’re staying at my place the next two weeks.”

And there it is, and it feels like a bomb has been dropped. Out of sheer surprise Stiles turns around and he can only guess by Derek’s disapproving look how utterly shocked and unprepared he must look.

“You’re kidding,” he states although he already knows he isn’t that lucky. “Oh, fuck.”

Derek clicks his tongue irritated but doesn’t answer.

“Why, oh _why_ did you agree to that?” Stiles says accusingly.

“What the hell was I supposed to say?” Derek returns angrily. “I thought you’d…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence but he doesn’t have to: I thought you’d suggested it. The thought that maybe Derek agreed to let Stiles stay at his shitty college apartment was because he thought Stiles wanted to stay at his shitty college apartment makes something tighten inside Stiles’ throat.

“Besides,” Derek quickly follows up, “it doesn’t matter.”

Stiles clenches his fists but doesn’t say anything. Derek looks up and meets Stiles’ eyes and Derek’s eyes are positively made of cement. “Why should it matter?”

“No reason,” Stiles answers and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “No reason at all.”

Filthy lies.

“Right,” Derek says. And then there’s a tense silence for a second before the toaster announces that Stiles’ bread is done with a loud, obnoxious ring that makes him jump in surprise. He grabs the bread and spreads butter on it furiously.

Melissa and John come downstairs and they don’t look the least bit surprised to see Derek standing in their kitchen.

“Derek,” John greets happily.

“Hey, sweetie,” Melissa says and hugs him.

“So, dad,” Stiles says and his voice is on the edge. “You forgot to tell me where I’m staying the next two weeks?”

His dad looks at him and is obviously surprised to see the anger reflected in his brown eyes. “Must’ve slipped my mind. Is it a problem?”

“No,” Derek says and he too sounds angry. “No problem.”

Stiles chooses not to comment.

Melissa looks concerned for a moment but then she remembers that she forgot to clean the upstairs bathroom and hurries away. John sighs and decides it better to go up and help her.

Leaving Stiles and Derek alone again. Great.

“So,” Stiles says, “I’ll go up and grab my stuff so we can get going, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Derek mumbles. Stiles rolls his eyes irritated but disappears nonetheless.

He throws random pieces of clothing into his suitcase. He’s both angry and embarrassed and terrified. Spending the next sixteen days with Derek – the stepbrother he’s madly in love with – in a tiny apartment just _cannot_ end well.

This is why a surprise vacation to Germany is _not_ a good idea.


	2. How to pretend everything is good and dandy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added angst to the tags because who am I kidding

Derek is the lucky owner of a car. And not a piece-of-shit car either. A nice car – a black Camaro his dad, Peter Hale who is an asshole and tries to buy his kids love instead of being actually involved in their lives, got him for his twentieth birthday.

At first Derek suggests taking Stiles in his car but Stiles argues he has a perfectly fine jeep that can drive. And it might not be fancy or black but he loves it and he’s not about to cheat on it with Derek’s too sleek car that probably can’t drive through snow because it’s _stupid_ and Stiles isn’t jealous.

So after he says goodbye to his dad and Melissa, tells them to have a good trip, stay safe and please don’t produce any more children, we are too many as it is, and all that he gets into his jeep and follows Derek through town.

Derek moved into his apartment when he was eighteen. Melissa paid half the deposit and Peter the other half. Peter even suggested just buying Derek and nicer, bigger apartment but Derek wouldn’t let him, told Peter this apartment was perfect the way it was – which it really isn’t but points to Gryffindor for some morality, Stiles thinks.

The apartment is in the part of Beacon Hills County commonly known as the College City. This is where all the good bars and clubs are located. And especially in the summer and at spring break this is the place to be. It’s filled with teenagers and young adults who are all trying to play grownups while doing stupid shit and collapsing under the stress of papers that needs done and so on and so forth. Stiles wants to go to College further away, possibly in another state even like Laura did, but that doesn’t mean that Beacon Hills College isn’t a nice place and Derek is happy. He’s in his third year and probably living the dream. He’s majoring in English Lit, he works at one of the billion Starbucks that is located around College City and every now and again he helps out his friend Boyd at the bookstore he works at. Stiles knows this because Derek is his brother and he tells him – and more preciously the whole family – stuff like that. He is his _brother_. Maybe not through blood but still; brothers. Very much a no-go, off-limit, hands-off-don’t-touch-that-thing person.

Stiles groans for the millionth time that evening and turns up the radio. Some upbeat pop-song is blasting out of the speakers and Stiles sings along even though he doesn’t know the lyrics. It’s good, he’s good, everything is good – great even. He can make this work. He just has to stay focused, has to remind himself that Derek is his brother and even if they’ve kissed a few times it doesn’t mean anything to the older male. It happened and it shouldn’t have and now it’s done, over, and they can all just move along –

But ugh fucking dammit it doesn’t help with the mental images his mind is supplying him with. He’s gonna be half-hard by the time they reach the apartment complex if he doesn’t start thinking about something else soon.

To distract his own thoughts he ends up counting the coffee shops he drives by. He gives up at twenty-three and then focuses solely on Starbucks. He gives up somewhere after thirty.

Derek’s black Camaro turns left and Stiles’ follows and then they can see the apartment complex right ahead of them, practically squeezed in between similar large apartment buildings. They all have one thing in common though; they’re lousy and therefor also cheap which means they house a lot of College students if not only.

There’s lot of parking space behind the complex so they park their cars and Stiles takes a deep breath before he jumps out of the car.

Derek is already walking towards him with that frown on his face that makes Stiles sigh.

“Are you ready?” Derek asks and leads the way without waiting for a reply. Stiles rolls his eyes but follows nevertheless.

The apartment is shitty. It really is. But it’s an actual apartment so Stiles isn’t complaining (too much). Derek lives on the fourth floor and by the time they reach his front door Stiles is gasping for air and about ready to collapse on the door mat (and who knew Derek had a doormat, he didn’t the last time Stiles and Scott visited – but that was also in the fall, so…).

Derek casts on look at him, grabs his suitcase and disappears inside, leaving the door open as a sort of unwanted invitation that makes Stiles groan again.

He practically crawls inside where he manages to stand up and shut the door.

The apartment is as tiny as ever.

It consists only of a small bedroom, a small living-room, an even smaller bathroom and a tea-kitchen placed between the living-room and the bedroom. And this is where Stiles is supposed to live for the next sixteen days. It’s not like he’s picky or anything, he knows this is the standard and he is fully prepared to live in this kind of apartment – or even a smaller one – when he moves out, it’s just that he’s sharing the apartment with Derek –

He stops before his train of thoughts can continue. He’s going to not think about that anymore; it’s _over_.  

“So,” he says. “Where am I staying?”

“Couch,” Derek orders and nods in the general direction as if Stiles could get lost on his way. It’s not like he’ll walk into it if he takes just a few more steps forward or anything.

“Aha, and is it any good? I mean, have you ever slept on, has it been approved of? Is it friendly?”

Derek shoots him a disapproving look. “It’s fine.”

Stiles sighs theatrically. “Okay, I guess I’ll be the test subject. If I die,” he adds melodramatic, “tell Scott I love him and that my porn magazines shall be given to Isaac, that little midget.”

“Please don’t, that’s gross,” Derek says but Stiles sees the redness that creeps over his neck and Stiles blinks in surprise before he can’t help but smirk a bit because Derek Hale is blushing _aha!_

“He’s my brother, it’s not gross,” Stiles tells him and drops down on the couch.

“It’s gross,” Derek concludes. “Do you want a soda?”

“Hmm… do you have anything good?”

Derek sighs heavily. “I have a coke or water. That’s it. I’m a college student, Stiles.”

“Point taken,” Stiles hums. “Coke then.”

Derek nods and finds the stuff and as he carries it to Stiles who’s found the remote Stiles thinks this might just work out. They’re being civil even though there’s no one around. They are having a proper conversation like they used to before New Year’s Eve.

His thoughts just won’t leave the episode – or more like: episodes as in plural as in more than one – alone. He swallows some of the cola and turns his attention back to the TV where Derek’s found some show about sharks attacking large ships or whatever and yes, blood and death, manly stuff, Stiles can do this. He can be normal (ha, who is he kidding?).

For exactly thirteen minutes and twelve seconds – Stiles _isn’t_ counting – it’s alright. But then not so much. Because Derek finishes his drink and gets up to get one more and as soon as he’s not on the couch Stiles turns to look at him and his throat tightens at the sight of his strong back muscles clearly visible under the tight t-shirt he’s wearing.

Stiles swallows hard and looks away. His heart is drumming too loudly in his own ears and he bites down on his lower lip as if to keep any inappropriate thoughts from spilling from his lips in the form of words and sentences and into the heavy air between the two stepbrothers.

When Derek returns he hands Stiles a glass of water and Stiles takes it wordlessly and just like that it suddenly isn’t alright anymore. Suddenly the okay tension turns into a not-okay-but-more-than-just-slightly-tense tension and it’s really very suffocating.

This time they can only stand it for four minutes and twenty seconds before Derek leaves again, this time to go to the bathroom. When the door clicks Stiles exhales loudly and throws his head back, covering his face with his hands to muffle the groans against them.

He won’t survive this, he concludes. He simple won’t.

When Derek reenters a few minutes later Stiles is still watching the program and is back to pretending everything is good and dandy between them because Stiles is a fan of ignoring a problem until it eventually just goes away and when they were younger and living under the same roof Derek and Stiles never had heart-to-hearts about their arguments or disagreements. If they were fighting, they shouted at one another and then they moved on. He’s kinda hoping this is another one of those occasions even if they aren’t technically fighting. ( _Yet_ , he adds in his mind).  

“Do you want something to eat?” Derek asks and his voice cuts through the silence like a knife.

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles shrugs, playing it nonchalant. “What do you got?”

“Literally nothing, I’m a college student, we don’t own stuff,” Derek answers and Stiles can’t help but laugh. The short outburst of happiness seems to take some of the tension away and Derek even manages a proper smirk.

“We could order pizza?” Derek says.

“We could totally do that,” Stiles agrees.

“Great, you’ll pay,” Derek says as he gets up.

“What, dude, no, you got like the riches dad in the fucking universe and he’d be happy to give you money, why – “

“Laura and I have rules,” Derek simply states.

“About not accepting Peter’s money? Because good for you, he can’t buy your love, all the power to the strong, independent children and that – “ Derek rolls his eyes – “but dude, seriously, I would’ve accepted the money.”

“You’re spineless,” Derek tells him.

“True,” Stiles admits and Derek snorts before he tells him to pick a damn pizza before they’ll both starve to death.

And then it’s sort of okay again – or not. They eat in relatively silence. It’s not that Stiles has run out of things to say, more like every time he opens his mouth to say something his brain helpfully reminds him that the guy he’s about to talk to is his stepbrother-off-limit and then he closes it and turns his attention back to the TV.

So when the shark program is over and something odd about the possibility of pixies existence is up next Derek finally excuses himself again.

This time Stiles doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry about the whole situation. Most of all it just seems a bit unfair. Like, maybe if he’d had a fair warning about the whole trip to Germany he could’ve prepared himself somehow.

Derek shows up again and to save them both from another hour of awkward silence Stiles mumbles something about bathrooms and small bladders and leaves.

He’s in the bathroom for entirely too long because.

It has nothing to do with the fact that he doesn’t want to face Derek and everything to do with the condoms with strawberry taste he accidently finds under the sink.

He stares at them for three minutes and then he starts whispering “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God” because apparently the idea that Derek has sex is too much for his already over-heated brain to manage.

And then of course when it’s on the topic of ‘sex’ and ‘Derek’ it decides that now is a good idea to imagine Derek sweaty and naked, pressing him against a wall or a door, placing rough kisses down his neck while his hand yanks at Stiles’ hair –

Fucking stupid brain, this is not the kind of thing he’s supposed to think of now. Definitely, absolutely not because Derek is right on the other side of the wall and even Stiles can’t hide it if he walks out hard. A semi he can handle.   

“So,” he says as he walks out, “think I’m gonna head to bed.”

Derek lifts one eyebrow but shrugs. “Sure.”

“Dude,” Stiles says with a sigh. “You’re literally sitting on my bed.”

“Fuck,” Derek groans, “I forgot. Well, guess I’ll just go to bed as well then.”

Stiles sends him a stiff smile.

He finds a t-shirt and some loose shorts he usually sleeps in and changes in the bathroom because the mere thought of Derek walking in on him changing makes him both terrifyingly embarrassed and confusingly aroused. Seriously, his mind is a wicked place.

Derek finds a blanket and a pillow and puts the leftover pizza in the fridge with the words ‘’breakfast’’ and Stiles maybe sort of smiles at that before he sits down on the couch and waits for Derek to finish up.

When Derek comes out of the bathroom he’s wearing jogging pants that clings to his gorgeous hips and a tight, red t-shirt that makes Stiles mouth water.

He feels the familiar mixture of yearning and guilt in his stomach and the bittersweet taste on his tongue grows stronger.

“Night,” Derek says.

“Yeah, goodnight.”

And then the door closes behind Derek and Stiles is suddenly all alone in the grey darkness that settles around him in the late summer evening. He can hear a clock ticking somewhere and a weak light from somewhere outside flickers and can be vaguely seen through the windows. Stiles lies down on the couch, pulls the blanket up although it’s too hot and he can’t help but listen.

It’s a tiny apartment and the walls are paper-thin. He can easily hear Derek’s uneven breathing in the bedroom. What is he thinking about? What’s going through his head? Is he thinking about Stiles?

Stiles swallows a loud, annoyed groan and forces himself to close his eyes and breathe slowly through his nose to calm down.

Before he falls asleep he comes to the conclusion that it isn’t so bad after all. They could be fighting, but as it is they might just make it out of this whole thing alive. And maybe even somewhat sane.

_As if._

\--

Waking up to the sight of Derek Hale making breakfast in a tight t-shirt and a pair of loose shorts is definitely something Stiles could get used to, he thinks. He tries to remember if he was ever this embarrassingly incoherent around the older boy when they lived under the same roof but then again he’d been fourteen when Derek had moved out, and yeah he might’ve got a little hero-worship going on, maybe even the beginning of a slight crush, but he wasn’t sporting this ridiculously in-love-thing he is now.

Guess life just decided it wasn’t going to be easy for Stiles Stilinski.

He inhales, yawns, stretches and sits up on the couch.

“Morning,” he mumbles.

“Morning,” Derek grunts from the tea-kitchen. “I’m making breakfast.”

“I thought you said you didn’t own stuff,” Stiles reminds him as he gets up.

“I’ve shopped.” Derek looks at him over his shoulder and suddenly furrows his eyebrows like he’s annoyed. Stiles sends him a puzzled look until he notices that his shirts is crumbled and rolled up so it reveals half of his stomach. Stiles can feel his cheeks reddening before he quickly pulls it down and ignores it. Derek grunts and turns his attention back the eggs.

“Anything I can help with?” Stiles mumbles and stretches again. He glances at the clock and it’s past noon.

“It’s fine,” Derek just says.

Stiles swallows a sigh. Keeping a conversation with Derek Hale going when he isn’t in a mood to contribute to it is actually the worst. It would literally be easier to talk to a door, he thinks. At least with the door he’ knows it’ll never actually answer him (unless you count that one time he got really drunk and thought Lydia’s living-room-door was telling him a fairytale) but with Derek it’s always guesswork. Is he happy? Is he un-happy? Will he answer my questions or will he make these stupid grunting noises that sound like something a caveman living in, well, a cave would say? God, it’s just exhausting.

Stiles ignores him and heads for the bathroom. When he comes back Derek is sitting on the kitchen counter eating eggs directly from the pan and watching the TV. Stiles can’t help but smirk. This sight – the sight of his handsome stepbrother eating breakfast – is oddly satisfying. Also more than it probably should be.

Another sigh is swallowed before he nears Derek.

“You gonna share?” he asks and hope his voice comes off as cocky and not tense.

“You can have the rest.” Derek hands him the pan and Stiles takes it wordlessly. “I’m just gonna change and then I’ll call Boyd.”

“Right,” Stiles says, “you’re only friend.”

It’s meant as a joke – _it really is_ – but the problem is, when they had that argument New Year’s Eve (that’s been hunting Stiles ever since) Stiles might’ve mentioned something similar.

How did he voice it again when he was talking to his niece Cora (with all of his friends, a bunch of kids and not to mention Derek himself standing around them)?

Oh yeah.

“He sucks at conversations. Or just generally socializing with other human beings while not looking like he’s about to eat their heads, and therefor Uncle D doesn’t actually have any friends. Because he’s an angry, bitter, superficial, lonely teenager, who thinks he has the right to act like a complete douchebag because he is the oldest, isn’t that stupid?”

Stiles is the one who feels like a douchebag now. But, to be fair, Derek had started it by calling Stiles an “immature, annoying, obnoxious brat.”

“Sorry,” he quickly mutters when he realizes his mistake. “It was… It was meant as a joke I wasn’t – “

“It’s okay.” Derek turns around before Stiles can catch his eyes.

“I really am – “

“I told you it’s okay, it was a joke, I get it.” Derek is walking towards his room.

“Yeah, but not a very good one. I didn’t mean it.”

“Okay.” The door closes behind Derek and maybe it’s just Stiles’ imagination but it sounds like Derek closes it a littler rougher than technically necessary. He winces and sits down on the floor. With a spoon he eats what’s left of the eggs and puts the pan in the sink.

\--

After Derek left with a sour ‘’see you later, don’t touch anything’’ Stiles decided to take a long, hot shower. He deserves it, he thinks. Whatever idea he had about it “not being so bad” he was obviously wrong. He doubts this could be any worse. Fifteen more days of this and the thought alone makes Stiles groan out loud.

He’s under the hot shower, the water hits his body gently and he exhales as the tension leaves his shoulder.

He suddenly remembers the condoms under the sink.

The strawberry flavored ones.

He swallows hard and closes his eyes.

This is not the time to be thinking about Derek having sex with people. And it’s especially not the time to think about Derek sweaty and gorgeous, his brow furrowed and his mouth half-open in a moan, his hips jerking forward as he pushes into –

Stiles almost stumbles backwards. He doesn’t have to look down to know he’s half-hard. It also doesn’t help that Stiles knows what Derek sounds like when he moans or that he knows what he looks like when he comes. No, it certainly doesn’t help _at all._

Fuck.

Or not, actually.

God, this is terribly.

For a moment he tries to convince himself that’s an entirely bad idea to jerk off to the thought of Derek in Derek’s own bathroom but then he remembers the way he’d pushed Stiles’ body against the bedroom door and all other thoughts leave his head.

He reaches down and grabs his cock. He remembers Derek touching him like this, as well. Remembers how he’d jerked him off, how his big hand had curled around the shaft, had pulled, how his finger had run over the slit, how he’d made Stiles whimper with need and –

He throws his head back and moans loudly because fuck it he’s screwed. He’s in love with stepbrother for fucks sake, it can’t get any worse than that, might as well take advantage of the fact that he has something better than just his imagination he has actual real memories of Derek and him kissing, of Derek and him grinding, of Derek and him jerking each other off, of Derek coming, of Stiles following closely after –

“Derek,” he cries out as he comes so hard his knees grow weak and he has to lean against the wall not to fall.

He hears the front door either close or open, he can’t tell for sure.

The sound makes him freeze no matter what.

Oh holy fucking god no.

Please, he thinks as he desperately rushes out of shower without turning off the water and wraps a towel around his waist, please let that be the sound of the door opening and not –

He opens the door and he’s alone in the apartment.

He waits for a moment and then another and another.

Then he takes a step into the hallway. He looks into the living room and –

He feels the blood drain from his face.

The black sweater that’d been lying on floor next to the door is gone.

Fuck.

That means that the door –

And, fuck, that means someone was in the apartment when he was –

And he’d said Derek’s name out loud, as well, because he is that stupid.

Maybe it wasn’t Derek.

He can feel his throat tightening because that actually isn’t a reassuring thought.

Well, maybe whoever it was didn’t hear him over the sound of the water.

He returns to the bathroom and turns off the water.

He knows the truth. He knows it was Derek, and he knows he heard because that’s just how fucking unlucky Stiles Stilinski is.

He gets back into the shower because suddenly his body is shivering but no matter how high he turns the temperature he can’t seem to get warm.

 


	3. How to not acknowledge a problem or talk about the elephant in the room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> terribly sorry for the delay

To: Scott

From: Stiles

11.16

dude how is it going

 

To: Stiles

From: Scott

11.26

you mean beside the fact that they’re all trying to kill me? lit everyone stiles!

 

To: Scott

From: Stiles

11.28

bro u r overreacting

 

To: Stiles

From: Scott

11.42

how come u dont have time for words like you but take the time 2 spell overreacting

 

To: Scott

From: Stiles

11.44

why r u still trying 2 reason with me

 

To: Scott

From: Stiles

11.50

but srsly how r things

 

To: Scott

From: Stiles

12.01

dont leave me

 

To: Stiles

From: Scott

12.32

sry bro were building a tent of some sort

 

To: Scott

From: Stiles

12.34

oh cool

 

To: Stiles

From: Scott

12.45

how r things with Derek btw. he ok?

 

To: Scott

From: Stiles

12.51

things r great im crashing around college city!!

 

Stiles sighs and drops the phone on the table. He reasons with himself that he didn’t actually lie to Scott, he just told him he was hanging out in College City which is not untrue. He is currently sitting in a café called _The Benefactor_. The name has Stiles confused, he thinks it may be a little over the top but hey he’s not complaining although their prizes aren’t exactly low. But this way he feels certain he won’t run into Derek since he can’t remember which of the Starbucks he works at.

It’s not that he’s avoiding the other boy it’s just – well, _technically speaking_ he may be avoiding the other boy. But it’s a reasonable approach to the situation at this point, he thinks. Derek has made it very obvious that he wants minimum contact with Stiles for the rest of their forced time together. Derek didn’t come home until late last night, went straight to bed, woke up early and left before Stiles had really had the chance to wake up. The only thing he’d said was “going to work” and then he’d left and Stiles had been utterly alone in the apartment.

So, now here he is. He’s bought a book – The Ocean at the end of the Lane – and he’s sipping his too expensive coffee while debating whether to read the acclaims as well and all the while he is most definitely not thinking about Derek Hale.

He looks down at his phone but Scott hasn’t answered and why would he? He’s out having fun with his girlfriend – and her family full of possibly murderers – and he shouldn’t have to deal with Stiles feeling alone and somewhat useless and most certainly stupid on top of everything else. And this is his own goddamn fault so he’s not going to drop any of this shit on Scott’s shoulders – even if he could, which he obviously can’t because Derek is not Stiles’ guy he’s hopelessly in love with (well, not _only_ that), he is Scott’s real-life, actual older brother, they have the same mother, same sister, same nieces and everything, they share blood, for crying out loud. Scott has known Derek all his life, he grew up with him. Derek saw Scott just two hours after Melissa gave birth to him, this shit is serious. So naturally even if he really, really wants to tell someone about his miseries he just _can’t._

He could call Lydia, but no – he can’t tell anyone about this it’s as simple as that.

And he’s not going to think about it anymore.

He sighs again, turns his attention back to the book and does not glance as his phone every three seconds to see if his best friend and step brother has answered him.

It’s day three, he reminds himself. Day three out of sixteen days in total, this isn’t going to work out.

Just as he’s about to go back to the book once again someone says “Stiles, right? Stiles… Hale?”

He looks up because whoever might’ve gotten his last name wrong but it’s still most definitely him they’re referring to.

He sees a girl in her early twenties. She has brown, long hair and brown, brown eyes, and a mole of a sort under her right eye and she is absolutely beautiful. Like, breathtakingly so.

“Hey,” Stiles says despite his urge to gape at her unintelligently. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

The girl smirks. She’s wearing a green t-shirt and a pair of shorts. In her hands she holds a copy of – would you look at that – The Ocean at the end of the Lane. He also notices, when she speaks next, that she has a mesmerizing, light voice, the sort of voice on gets addicted to.

“You probably don’t remember me, my name’s Paige – “

“And you used to date Derek,” he finishes because she suddenly, yes, all the pieces fits into place and he does remember her. God, it’s been a long time. They’d been teenager with a capital T back then, Derek and Paige. Both only sixteen years old and as far as Stiles could gather head over heels, madly, stupidly in love with one another.

She grins and nods. “I did. You are Stiles, right? And not Scott?”

“Most definitely Stiles,” he smiles and she returns the smile and if she was just half as beautiful as a teenager as she is now Stiles can totally understand why Derek fell for her in the first place.

“Fancy seeing you here, you old enough to go to college already?” she asks.

He gives her smile. “Not yet. I’m staying at Derek’s for some time.”

She smiles widely. “Oh, it’s great to know that the two of you have a good relationship.”

He has to physically swallow his snort and instead he just nods, hopes that’s answer enough for her.

“Well,” she says and sits down at the table, “then hopefully you can tell me where he’s hiding?”

“Hiding?” Stiles repeats.

She rolls her eyes and smirks again. “Hiding,” she says.

“Well,” Stiles says and looks around slightly confused as if he expects someone to come in and save him. “He’s at work right now?”

“Good,” she says, “then you can take me there.”

He wants to laugh very loudly and possibly manically but he doubts she’ll find it as funny as he does so he reclines to making a brief grimace and gesture to the coffee cup.

“Sorry, can’t,” he says. “Paid good money for this – “

“Oh, I work here, I’ll make it up to you. Come by any Tuesday or Thursday and I’ll be here. I can give you a free coffee and the best muffin you’ll ever taste.”

When Stiles tries to remember Paige all he seems to get is the image of a good-looking, somewhat sarcastic, less than enthusiastic, not talk-active, cello-playing, pretty girl. Was she always this insistent?

“Well,” he says, “that’s really nice, Paige, but, you know, I really should get back to reading my book.”

She glares at him and she has a very effective glare, he has to admit that. “Don’t be silly,” she tells him, “come with me,” and then she gets up and walks away without looking back.

_Ugh._

He thinks it over briefly but in the end he sighs, drowns his coffee, burns his tongue, grabs his book and follows her out of the door.

She leads the way down the crowded streets. She talks a bit but she also seems fine with walking in relative silence and Stiles is too occupied with his heart, which is beating ten times faster than it should, to be all that bothered with conversations at the moment. They talks a bit about the book (“I like it” “it’s shit” “huh”) and Paige mentions that she goes to a different college a few towns away. She studies law and she lives in an apartment with her two good friends. She still plays cello and she still wants to make a carrier out of it but she’s also realistic about her options.

“I didn’t know you’re still keeping in contact with Derek,” Stiles says as they round a corner. He sees a Starbucks and his heart beats faster but just like the last three times they walk straight past the coffee shop.

“Well, after we broke up when we were, what, eighteen we didn’t talk much. But then we met at a reunion thing Beacon Hills High School threw and, yeah, we talked and he’s still, you know,” she shrugs, “ _Derek_ and everything.”

Stiles just hums. He doesn’t feel like he should know what she means when she says _Derek_ like that, it’s oddly intimate, too intimate for brothers, but he still has an idea of what’s going through her head and he can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not (probably not).

The next Starbucks they see is located right next to an old book store with the words ‘Darach Bookstore – only the best’ over the door and Stiles knows that this is it.

He wants to not go to into the Starbucks, that’s what he wants to do, and yet he continues to walk onwards and Paige is talking about that time she and Derek went to Disney World on their anniversary and it’s not really helping Stiles’ heartache to be honest.

They go inside and the place is packed because apparently there can never too many Starbucks in one town. One would think that maybe the thousand other Starbucks located in a neat circle around this one, some just a few meters away, would be at least somewhat of a competition but apparently not.

He sighs and runs a tired hand through his hair. God, he can’t believe its only day three.

Paige gets in line and Stiles debates whether to flee or maybe come up with an excuse as to why he need to go as in right now when she smiles at him and says “so how long are you staying at Derek’s?”

“Just for a few weeks,” he shrugs.

“What about Scott, I seem to remember you two being thick as thieves.”

“He’s with his girlfriend, camping.”

“Girlfriend,” Paige sighs. “You’re not old enough for that.”

“Hey, you were the one you thought I was in college.”

“True, but you still seem so… young. Gosh, what were you back then? Nine?”

Stiles frowns. “I was twelve.”

Paige smirks and doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. “You were tiny and adorable.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I was twelve,” he repeats as if that’s a valid argument against her statement.

“Exactly,” she smirks and then all of the sudden they’re there, at the front, and there’s someone saying:

“Hey, what can I – Paige?”

Stiles takes a step backwards before he can stop himself. He looks the other way though he knows it’s too late. And he hears Paige go:

“Hey, D, so this is where you’re hiding.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying either.”

“Sure you are.”

“How did you find me?”

“Told you, you were hiding.”

“Paige!”

“Oh, I ran into your little brother!”

And then there’s an arm around Stiles’ shoulder and he is forced to look up and meet Derek’s eyes and –shit, if there was ever a hint of doubt in Stiles’ mind about whether Derek had really heard him shout his name as he masturbated in the shower it disappears instantly when he looks into Derek’s furious and yet deadly cold eyes.

“I see,” Derek says. “Hey, Stiles.”

“Yo, Derek,” Stiles says. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “What are you doing?” he asks Paige and thank god he directed his attention back to her because just one more second of those accusing, knowing eyes and Stiles would’ve gone insane.

“I’m here to tell you that one, we are going on a coffee date tomorrow and two, I’m throwing a party this evening and you’re coming.”

Derek looks like they’ve had this conversation before. “Paige – “

“It’s funny,” she interrupts, “because back in High School I seem to remember _you_ chasing _me_ , when did the tables turn anyway?”

“The day he became grumpy and _moody_ ,” Stiles mumbles and he can practically feel Derek’s hard eyes on him.

Paige just snorts. “So, tonight at my sister’s house, you know where – “

“I liked you better when you weren’t trying so hard,” Derek tells her.

“Funny,” Paige said in a cold tone of voice but Stiles can tell she doesn’t mean in, this is obviously just the way Derek and Paige communicate now for whatever reason.

“I’m dead serious.”

“Sure you are. So tonight – “

“Derek, there’s a line forming – “

“When is there not,” Stiles mumbles.

“—get back to your work and talk to your girlfriend later.” The other employee gives Derek a disapproving look.

Derek gives him a curt nod before he looks sternly at Paige.

“I’m not leaving before you agree to come.”

“No,” he states.

“What do you have against parties?”

“What do you have against human boundaries?”

Paige turns to look at Stiles and she grins. “You’re coming too.”

It’s not a question, it’s not up for debate. She’s merely stating a solid fact on her end.

“Oh,” is all he says.

“Derek,” the other employee warns.

“ _Paige_ ,” Derek hisses.

“Say yes,” she urges.

“I liked you better – “

“When I was silent and played cello in the music room, I know,” she interrupts. “Now, say yes.”

“Fine!” he practically shouts and several costumers look at them.

She beams. “Great,” she says. Then she grabs Stiles by the arm and drags him away.

She sits down at one of the empty tables and pulls out her phone. She types something quickly before she grabs her book and opens it. Stiles is staring at her in obvious confusion as to what just happened but then he gives up and starts reading his book as well.

\--

Three hours later Derek’s shift is over and Paige and Stiles are waiting for him just outside the store. Stiles is still very much confused as to why he just spent three hours with Derek’s ex-girlfriend, reading Neil Gailman and ignoring Derek, but then again it’s Stiles we’re talking about, so.

“There you are,” Paige practically sings when Derek comes out to join them. He looks anything but pleased to see them – see Stiles – waiting for him.

“And so are you,” he comments dryly.

“Yes we are,” Paige agrees.

“I’m actually going over to Boyd now, so,” Derek says.

Paige snorts but she doesn’t look dismissed or hurt only slightly irritated and somewhat impatient. “Sure you are. I’m here to tell you that I’ll pick the both of you up at eight.”

“I know where your sister lives,” Derek complains.

“Yes but if I don’t you’ll ditch and come up with some lame excuse like you did you New Year’s Eve about babysitting – “

“That actually wasn’t a lie.” Derek glares at Paige but she just rolls her eyes. And Stiles almost wants to laugh. Because Derek had actually cancelled party plans to come babysit with Scott and Stiles on New Year’s Eve and then everything had gone to hell between Stiles and him and god, it’s too much.

“It wasn’t,” Stiles finds himself saying before he can stop it. “I was there.”

Paige turns and she looks surprised to say the least and Derek –

Derek’s entire face contorts with emotions and feelings and memories of what they’d done and maybe possibly also of memories of what Stiles had done yesterday and his entire display ends in a sour grimace before he looks away. His face matches the bitter taster on Stiles’ tongue.

“Well, well,” Paige says. “Maybe you do still love me and you haven’t been trying to sneakily avoid me these last few years.”

“No, I’m trying to avoid you, I don’t like you,” Derek says, Paige throws an arm around his broad shoulders and laughs.

Somewhere in that bitter, sour, jealous part of Stiles’ mind he wishes it was him that could laugh so easily around Derek, behave so naturally and act so easily around Derek, have actual physical contact – even if it was just a random arm around the shoulders – with Derek.

He swallows and follows the two of them down the street as they begin to talk about some party Stiles obviously didn’t attend, people he has never heard of before and terms and words he has no idea what means. They might as well speak French it would make no difference, and he happens to know that both Derek and Paige are good at France.

 _God_ , imagining Derek talking filth in French –

No.

He inhales sharply and keeps his eyes on Paige’s left shoulder, avoiding even looking at Derek at this point.

At one point Derek actually does leave them to go to Boyd’s but he promises to be at his own place – and bring Boyd as well – at eight o’clock. Paige and Stiles walk a bit of the way together before she heads in one direction and he in another. He finds himself standing outside of Derek’s apartment complex before he knows it and although he really doesn’t want to spend any more time than strictly necessary up there he has no better place to go, so.

Tomorrow he will find a better book to read. Or maybe go see a movie. He needs knew clothes. And stuff for school. He is not going to spend the next thirteen days rotting up in Derek’s tiny, smelling apartment if he can avoid it.

He takes a quick shower – and does not jerk off because _no_ – and then he ends up sitting in the living room for the rest of the day waiting for Derek, Paige and Boyd. And it’s not even like he wants to go to this party but he has nothing better to do and hey maybe he’ll meet a cute college boy or girl and he’ll kiss them and he’ll be happy.

That sounds nice.

At some point Scott even replies to his text.

 

To: Stiles

From: Scott

sounds good bro

say hello to D from me

miss ya

5.36

\--

Stiles sits in the living room when Derek comes back. He enters and stares at Stiles, frozen for a second like the sight of his younger stepbrother relaxing on his crappy couch is in unrealistic thing. And maybe in this universe it really is but Stiles has nowhere else to be, and besides, as long as they’re not acknowledging this thing between them, so long as neither of them is prepared to talk about the elephant in the room, he sees no reason as to why he is the one who should behave any differently.

Derek quickly recovers and gives him a short “you ready?” to which Stiles replies with “sure, are you?” and Derek just shrugs and enters his own bedroom. Stiles groans into his palm before he turns his attention back to the TV.

He looks at the clock.

Almost seven.

Fifteen minutes later Derek takes a shower and Stiles tries very hard not to imagine what Derek must look like – naked and wet – under the shower because, yes, no that’s not going to work.

At seven thirty Derek leaves the shower now clean and dress, wearing something that makes him smell like son and sex and everything mighty and his hair – holy Jesus, what did he do to his hair? It looks fucking amazing.

Stiles swallows hard and looks away. Derek doesn’t say anything but just goes back into his room.

Ten minutes to eight Boyd enters the apartment. The way he does it it’s obvious to Stiles that he practically lives in this apartment as well. When he sees Stiles he gives the younger boy a short but not unfriendly smile and asks if Derek is anywhere to be found.

“Room,” Stiles mutters.

Boyd leaves as well.

Fifteen minutes later they both enter the living room.

“Come on, it’s past eight, Paige can be here any minute,” Derek says to no one in particular. Stiles doesn’t acknowledge the sentence with a reply but does get up from the couch.

Five minutes later and they’re in the parking lot.

Derek’s next to Boyd talking about something some of their mutual friends did and just like with Paige Stiles has no way to follow the conversation. He swallows yet another sigh and thinks this is going to be one hellish, long evening.

When Paige arrives in her tiny car she’s so happy to see them Stiles briefly wonders if she’s drunk but when Derek just rolls his eyes at the girl’s enthusiasm he quickly dismisses it. Derek knows her better and if he thinks she’s sober it’s good enough for Stiles. Derek may be stubborn but he’s not stupid. Well, he’s not _that_ stupid anyway.

On the way their Paige laughs, Boyd hums, Derek snorts and Stiles says absolutely nothing. He’s next to Derek in the back seat of the car, and they’re sitting so close their legs are almost touching. The tension between them is so thick it’s practically pulsing like electricity at this point.

When they park outside an apartment complex similar to Derek’s they all get out.

Stiles can immediately hear the loud music and he pulls a face.

And out of the corner of his eyes he sees Derek do the same.

They both probably swallow a loud groan or a deep sigh.

This really, truly is not going to end well, Stiles thinks to himself as he follows Boyd, Derek and Paige inside.


	4. Reasons why Stiles Stilinski's life sucks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm a big fan of Stiles being like half polish or half russian or something. But here's the thing: I only speak two languages beside english and one is german and the other is danish, so obviously a polish or russian Stiles is not an option. Danish Stiles is however. And it probably doesn't make a lot of sence, and with the whole name thing, but let's just forget about that, shall we?
> 
> This is what he says btw should anyone be interested: 
> 
> Det kan jeg ja = yes I can  
> Du er meget smuk = You are very beautiful  
> Du er et stædigt, lille menneske = you are a stubborn, little human

The music is so freaking loud. Stiles winces just as two girls run past him and almost tumbles him. He regains his footing but growls at them. There’re people everywhere and they’re bumping into him and spilling various forms of alcohol on his clothes and maybe he wouldn’t mind if he was drunk as well or just a bit tipsy or among people he knew or just, maybe, with someone he could at least talk to but no. Here he is, at this totally random party when he would much rather be home, watching some awesome shit on Netflix or whatever and maybe eat like a shit ton of ice cream or you know, yeah, the possibilities are endless. The point is there’s a long list of things he would rather be doing than being at this very party at this very time with these very people.

His life _sucks._

And then he looks up and catches Derek standing next to a girl with long, brown hair and big eyes and a wide smile while drinking a beer looking all casual and relaxed and Stiles thinks about how tense he is when he’s around Stiles in the apartment – or just anywhere these days – and it fucking isn’t fair!

He grabs a beer someone has forgotten on the floor and drowns it. He almost coughs or pukes or something but manages to _not_ make a complete fool out of himself. It’s going to be a long night, he knows, but if he has to spend it watching Derek – stupid, fucking, hot, perfect Derek – flirt with random girls he gets to at least be embarrassingly drunk while doing so.

\--

The people around him erupt in laughter and Stiles can feel his grin grow brighter. His head is kinda fuzzy and he’s in that state where he’s aware he’s drunk but he still doesn’t really _feel_ drunk so he keeps drinking although there’s this persistent voice in his head telling him to slow down or he’ll just do something stupid. Well, he doesn’t care. He knows none of these people besides Derek (and maybe sorta Boyd and Paige) and at this point he wouldn’t mind if his behavior would embarrasses Derek and reflect poorly on him. Derek Hale has flirted with no less than five girls and a boy and Stiles is sort of maybe furious.

Definitely, totally furious, yes.

But, who the fuck cares? He’s found himself a crowd of people who thinks he’s funny because he’s sorta drunk and they’re sorta drunk (they’re all possibly wasted or stoned) and he can pretend he doesn’t notice the girl currently dancing with Derek.

More like grinding against him.

Ugh, who even dances like that?

Ridicules.

 “Stiles – you name is Stiles right? Well, here you go.”

Someone hands him a beer and he thanks whoever and drinks some more, because at this point it hardly makes a difference.

“Strange name.”

He looks up and catches the eyes of a girl with blonde hair and pale, grey-ish eyes. She smiles and tilts her head like she’s curious, like Stiles interests her maybe and he finds himself returning the smile on impulse.

“Yeah, well, my real name’s,” he throws in some wild hand gestures at this point, “strange, in this part of the world.”

“This part of the world?” she laughs.

She has a nice laugh, he notes.

He smirks. “My mother was Danish. Not a big cultural difference or anything, but, you know,” he shrug. “Not a lot of people can pronounce my name right so it’s easier this way.”

“Huh,” she says. “Now I’m curious.”

He snorts. “No you’re not, it’s not that interesting.”

“You speak Danish?” she asks.

“A bit,” he confesses. “Not much since my mother, well, uh, died.”

She quirks both her eyebrows up and there’s always that little awkward silence when he says that. Apparently mentioning a dead mother is not party-like. What does he know? Besides, it’s not a secret and he’s past the point where he gets a lump in his throat every time someone mentions her.

“Oh,” she says and then follows it up with a quick: “Can you say something in Danish?”

He smirks, glad she didn’t ask any questions like “how did it happen?” “are you okay?” or anything like that where he’d feel complied to answer even though it would be uncomfortable for both of them.

“Det kan jeg ja,” he says. ”Du er meget smuk.”

She looks both and amused and amazed. She can’t hear it, but his Danish is a little rusty and he has an accent. It’s been too long since he spoke the foreign language, his tongue isn’t used to it.

“What did you say?” she asks.

He throws his head back and laugh. The alcohol is running through his system, his blood is poisoned by it, his head is foggy, his movements are slower and his bones are itching like he has a sudden urge to move but he is okay, he finds. He’s actually having fun.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he says.

“I would,” she says. “In case you said something bad about me, you know?”

“I’m horrified you’d think about me!”

It’s her turn to laugh. “Fair enough. The name’s Heather, by the way. Should you be interested.”

“I might be,” he says. He sucks at flirting but Heather doesn’t seem to notice. She truly is beautiful. Not in a sort of insane way and not in a different kind of way like Paige is but she’s still very beautiful. In her own, subtle way. He likes that. And she pays attention to him, she thinks he’s funny. Also, they are not in any way related by blood or though parents. They’re strangers but that’s okay. They can sit there on the floor share a beer and talk about dead mothers and foreign languages without worrying about anything (like how Derek is probably making out with some insanely hot person somewhere behind him right now).

“Say something else,” she demands.

“Du er et stædigt, lille menneske,” he says and enjoys the way she opens her eyes in mock impressment by his doubtful talent.

“Did you just insult me?” she asks.

He makes another outraged face and then they continue to play a game of guess-what-ever-the-hell-Stiles is saying, which is only fun because they’re both slightly drunk but that’s okay, too. And a few moments later a few more people join them and then a few more and then he’s yet again in a crowd of people who find him funny. And he smiles.

\--

How the freaking hell he went from talking Danish and having fun to playing ‘truth or dare’ with Derek, Boyd, Heather, Heather’s friend, Paige, Paige’s sister, a blonde haired girl and her boyfriend Kyle he seriously doesn’t know.

At this point he’s too drunk to care and too drunk to notice he’s too drunk to care.

They’re all standing in the kitchen. Heather is on the kitchen counter and Stiles is right next to her and his hand is maybe, possibly moving towards her hand but hey, sue him, she’s pretty and nice and her hair smells of those awesome flowers that his mother used to grow in the garden and also she seems interested and she thinks he’s funny.

And he could kiss her right now and no one would find it weird. No one would look at them oddly, think they were perverted or say anything to it. It’s possible she’d tell him she wasn’t interested but then that’s it. A simple kiss between the two of them would not be followed by a shit storm.

And he likes that thought.

“So,” Paige sister says. “Kyle, it’s your turn.”

“I ask… Heather.”

The girl groans and Stiles gives her hand a sympathetic pat. And she looks at him and smiles and then she moves her hand so she can intertwine their fingers and he returns her smile.

“Dare,” she says.

Kyle smirks. “Kiss Stiles.”

Stiles does not blush because he’s seventeen and that is an appropriate age not to blush. He also manages not to gasp in surprise when Heather just shrugs, jumps down from the counter, grabs him the face and kisses him. His eyes open wide in surprise and the kiss is too short so he doesn’t have time to react –

And when she pulls back she winks and Stiles grins.

“Well done,” Kyle laughs.

Stiles laughs as well, turns around to maybe look at Paige or Boyd or whoever but catches Derek’s hard eyes and his smile fades instantly. For a moment he can’t seem to look away from Derek’s glare and it’s not that Derek has any reason to look at him like that, and it’s not even like it makes any fucking sense, but there he is, glaring at Stiles like he just kissed the fucking devil and Stiles doesn’t know how to look away or say anything because Derek – holy god, Derek – is staring at him with fury and possibly also maybe jealousy.

“Your turn, H,” whatshername says and Heather hums.

The interruption makes Derek look away and Stiles can actually feel his heart miss a beat. He looks down and ignores the way his blood is suddenly throbbing in his ears.

“Stiles,” she says.

He returns to reality and growls at her but she just laughs.

“Truth,” he says with a shrug.

“Well,” she says, “are you into boys or girls?”

He splutters. “What?” he asks. “What, why do you ask that?”

“You give out certain vibes,” Paige’s sister explains and Heather nods in agreement.

Now he’s blushing, possibly flaming red. Well. “Both,” he answers.

Heather’s wide grin turns even wider and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“It’s not a big deal,” he huffs, “Derek’s bi, too.”

Derek looks at him then and lifts both his eyebrows in an anything but impressed expression.

Paige and her sister laugh at his grim face and Stiles physically winces under the hard stare. Paige throws an arm around Derek’s shoulders. “He certainly is. Must run in the family then.”

Stiles clenches his fists and looks away. He suddenly doesn’t want to be here anymore. The fog covering his brain makes it impossible to think and his mouth is both too slow and too quick and it’s uncomfortable. And Derek is staring and Heather is staring and there are all these hard eyes and all these thoughts running through his head.

“Stiles, your turn,” Heather reminds him.

He swallows hard. “Uh, Derek?” he says because apparently his mouth is trying to get him killed.

Without looking at him Derek answers: “Dare.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything right away, has no idea what to say. He doesn’t want to see Derek kiss anyone else, the thought alone makes him feel sick.

“Kiss Stiles!” Kyle suddenly shouts.

And Stiles and Derek’s eyes meet and the world freezes for a quick, intense, horrifying moment.

And then: “For fucks sake, Kyle, they’re brothers!” whatshername shouts.

“Stepbrothers,” he argues.

“It’s _gross_!” she continues.

“Yeah,” Paige’s sister chimes in. “They grew up together, they might as well be real brothers. It’s practically incest. You _perv_.”

“Well, it was just a question – “

“A stupid question,” Kyle’s girlfriend says. “Of course they won’t kiss each other. They’re not, like, freaks.”

Kyle starts rolling his eyes and saying some nonsense but Stiles isn’t paying attention to him or them or anyone else but Derek anymore.

He feels sick, the world is spinning, his fingers are ice cold, his head is throbbing and he can’t breathe. Without looking away from Derek and with a surprisingly calm voice he announces: “I’m going to go outside for a bit,” and then he leaves the kitchen.

\--

He doesn’t like this feeling. Or more like feeling _s_ , as in plural as in multiply, crappy feelings.

He feels sad and frustrated and sick and not in control of neither the situation nor his own movements. And he doesn’t want to feel this way anymore. Everything is hyped, everything is poisoned. Someone hands him a shot and he drowns it and another one and another one. He thinks: maybe I can kill these feelings with alcohol but obviously is doesn’t work. The feelings just grow and grow and he almost feels like crying and he isn’t even sure why anymore. He just does. He feels like crying. And somewhere in the back of his mind he’s aware the alcohol is partly to blame for how shitty he feels so a part of him warns him not to drink anymore but he knows, logically, that he can’t sober up within the next few minutes. He knows he’s too drunk, he knows this, but the way he sees it he has two options. Either be sober (which was just clarified is not going to happen) or stay drunk (which is very much a possibility even if it will most likely only worsen his already terrible mood).

So he takes a sib of the beer. He can’t even taste it anymore.

He’s standing – well, sitting – on the balcony. The very tiny balcony, probably designed to hold three or four people at most. Currently nine people are on the balcony, Stiles being one of them. Everyone’s smoking cigarettes and pot and he’s in the corner, on the floor, leaning against the outer wall, feeling the bricks scrape against his sculp.

Above all he feels disgusted. By himself, by Derek, by the people around him, about what they did, him and his stepbrother, about what he did in that shower and about what he wishes they could do, all the terrific, terribly, amazing, disgusting things.

“Hey,” someone says.

“Yo,” Stiles slurs.

“You look awful, man.”

He looks up and sees an impressive figure standing over him.

“Hey yo Boyd,” he mumbles. “Beer?”

Boyd most likely rolls his eyes. “No. We are going home.”

“Who – who are we?” he asks.

“You, me, Derek.”

Stiles groans loudly, it’s more like a whine than anything else, and complains: “Don’t want to.”

“Well,” Boyd sighs annoyed. “I’m taking you and your shitty brother home.”

Stiles looks up at Boyd now. “You angry?”

Boyd pulls him up, Stiles sways on his feet uncertainly but Boyd doesn’t let go. “Yes.”

“Why?” Stiles asks as they head through the crowd on the balcony, several people greeting him. Did he talk to any of these people? Does he know them?

“Because you’re shitfaced and Derek is in a bad mood – “

“Wait,” Stiles says and actually stops walking. “Derek’s mad?”

“Mad?” Boyd laughs. “He’s furious.”

“Why?” Stiles asks.

Boyd just shrugs and continues to guide and pull Stiles through the apartment to the front door. There’s no sign of Derek anywhere but Heather comes running towards them.

“Wait up,” she yells. “Give me your phone.”

Stiles stares at her, blinks, tries to remember where his phone is, has no idea, does nothing, continues to stare at her without saying anything.

Boyd growls, grabs the phone from his back pocket and hands Heather it. She grins, types something and hands it back.

“In case, you know, you ever want to teach some Danish.”

“Or maybe – maybe drink coffee,” he suggests. He isn’t even sure he finished the sentence. Did he finish the sentence? His mind is very… _foggy_.

She laughs and kisses him on the cheek. “Or that,” she says. Then she turns around and leaves. Boyd sighs heavily and drags Stiles outside.

They find Derek sitting on the stairs outside the apartment building smoking a cigarette. He doesn’t look up when they come down and join him, doesn’t even say anything, he just gets up and leaves. Boyd glares at him in his very characteristic unsatisfied Boyd-way and follows him. Stiles is forced to follow as well since Boyd is currently holding him up and actually guiding him through the streets of College City.

All around them in various apartments and houses and in discos and clubs people are partying, laughing, dancing, shouting, singing. Having fun.

Derek walks a good few feet in front of Boyd and Stiles. They’re still far away from the apartment when he suddenly stops in front of a bar. There’s music streaming out from the open door and the air inside is obviously thick and white from cigarette smoke.

“I’ll go in there,” he states monotonic and then that’s exactly what he does. Without looking at either Stiles or Boyd or in any other way addressing them.

“Wait!” Boyd shouts. “What about Stiles?! _Derek_!”

No answer. He’s already gone.

Boyd mumbles something Stiles can’t hear and then he continue to walk.

And through the fog Stiles is able to register this: Derek just abandoned them. More importantly: he abandoned _him_ , he left him when he knew he was in no state to get home by himself. And true, Boyd is with him but he has no relationship to Boyd. The boy may as well just leave him, what guarantee does Derek has that Boyd will take him home? And on what basis does he justify leaving them? Totally ignoring the responsibility he has as Stiles’ older brother.

“Asshole,” Stiles whispers. His voice is sort of groggy, like he’s both tired and about to cry. He doesn’t want to cry, not with Boyd holding him like this.

They continue is silence, it’s obvious, though, that Boyd is absolutely furious. An angry Boyd is a terrifying Boyd.

They make it back to the apartment, walks up the thousands stairs and then –

“The key, Stiles?”

The boy looks up at Boyd but he has a hard time concentrating on his face. It’s blurry.

“What?” he mumbles.

“Your keys,” Boyd repeats. “Where are they?”

“I don’t…” He never finishes the sentence but he doesn’t have to.

Boyd inhales sharply and glares at Stiles like he’s debating whether it would easier to kill the boy and hide the body than actually go back and find Derek at this point. Stiles is positive it is.

“Look,” he manages to say despite it all, “just leave me here, I’ll be fine.”

Boyd doesn’t look convinced.

Stiles rolls his eyes (and it hurts) and steps back and out of his embrace and without stumbling or falling. “See? I’ll be fine, just go home, Boyd.”

He still doesn’t look convinced.

Stiles sighs and sits down on the cold floor, leaning against the door. “Just go,” he orders as he closes his eyes. He waits for a second and then another one and another and then he hears the sound of someone leaving. He waits until he hears the front door close before he opens his eyes.

He’s alone in the black apartment complex. He’s drunk and sad and _alone_.

He looks at his phone.

Huh.

 

To: Stiles

From: Scott

03.04

what

 

To: Stiles

From: Scott

03.08

how drunk r u on a scale from 1-10

 

To: Stiles

From: Lydia

03.15

You got to be kidding me, Stilinski

 

 

To: Stiles

From: Allison

03.42

go to bed, plz! 

 

He doesn’t remember texting anyone but apparently he has. He got to check that out tomorrow. For now he’s content with just sitting here. He wraps his arms around his legs, rests his head against his knees and then –

Then he cries. Not a lot, he isn’t weeping, there’s no snot or anything, but he’s crying. Salty, fresh tears are running down his cheeks.

He looks at the clock on his phone.

04.02


	5. What we talk about when we talk about how we deal with our problems (or something like that)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, my computer is kinda sorta broken and it sucks. The next chapter will be longer (and hopefully less angsty and more fluffy)

“Stiles? What are you doing here?”

Go away.

“Where the fuck is Boyd? Did he leave?”

No, _you_ left, you left me, Derek.

“For fuck sake.”

Go away, just fucking go the fuck away.

“Come, let’s get you – “

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

I hate you.

“Fine, stumble into the apartment on your own then.”

Asshole.

“Don’t fall – “

“Fuck you.”

“Stiles – “

“Just, fuck you.”

I hate you.

I hate you so much.

“Fine.”

No, _no_ , don’t leave, don’t leave!

“Derek?”

“What?!”

“Where… are you going?”

I love you.

“Just locking the door, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Go to bed.”

“Okay.”

I love you.

I love you so much.

\--

Stiles wakes up with a pounding headache. Everything hurts. His bones, his head, his stomach, his throat, his heart. God, he wants to stay on this couch forever. He vaguely remembers Derek coming back to the apartment to find him lying in front of the door, fast asleep. He remembers falling asleep on the couch. He remembers this, yet he feels like it happened in a dream. Had he said anything to Derek that he wasn’t supposed to say? No, he would’ve remembered that. All he remembers now is feeling torn between the need to kiss him and the urge to punch him, the desire to suck him off and the want to bite it off.

Stiles groans. He can hear Derek snoring in his own bedroom through the paper thin walls. What went through Derek’s head last night when he left Stiles? What went through his head when Kyle told them to kiss? What went through his head when those girls said it was perverted, that it didn’t matter they weren’t related through blood they were still brothers?

Stiles is staring up at the ceiling when his prone announces a new text.

 

To: Stiles

From: Heather

11.23

Are you alive? ;)

\- Heather

 

He reads it, then rereads it and then he answers:

 

To: Heather

From: Stiles

11.26

more or less

how about u

\- S

 

He gets up from the couch and can’t help but let a pitiful groan escape. He practically stumbles into the kitchen. He searches the cupboards and the fridge but there’s nothing eatable anywhere except some fruit and cola He grabs an apple, a coke and returns to the couch.

 

To: Stiles

From: Heather

11.57

Good to know J

Do you maybe wanna do something today?

 

He eats the fruit before he answers.

 

To: Heather

From: Stiles

12.03

yeah sure loved 2

 

To: Stiles

From: Heather

12.10

Cool you know the benefactor?

Meet me there in an hour?

 

To: Heather

From: Stiles

12.15

sounds great!

 

He takes a long, warm shower cleaning his body from drinks that’s been spilled over him. Forty five minutes later and Derek is still fast asleep and Stiles is ready to go. Stiles doesn’t leave him a note. Part of him wants to, wants to write _I’m out on a possible date with a cute girl_ but then… then there’s persistent voice that reminds him that Derek didn’t ask for any of this. So he doesn’t tell him where he is also because he doesn’t feel like he owes Derek anything, least of all this.

\--

Heather waits for him outside. She looks a bit tired but considering she wasn’t headed home when Stiles left she’s doing pretty well. She’s beautiful, Stiles thinks and he manages an earnest smile when she catches his eyes.

“Hey, Stiles,” she says and pulls him into a tight embrace. “How are you?”

“My head hurts,” he groans and she laughs. “You?”

“Nothing some caffeine can’t fix,” she says with a smirk and even adds a wink for good measure. He returns the smile easily and they go inside.

Behind the counter is none other than Paige, who looks remarkably awake and happy all things considered and when she sees them she practically beams.

“Good morning, children,” she says. “Coffee?”

“The strongest you got,” Heather says.

Paige laughs. She doesn’t ask Stiles, just turns around and passes a note with their order to a man wearing a white apron. Then she turns around to face them once more.

“So, how are we today? Doing okay are we?” she asks them.

Stiles shrugs. “I’ve been better,” he says truthfully. What he doesn’t mention is that it isn’t his headache that hurts the most; it’s the sheer, unbreakable knowledge that Derek left him with Boyd yesterday to go get even more shitfaced and what for?

“Actually I’m doing okay,” Heather says. “What about you? Fresh and happy as ever?”

“Yes,” Paige nods. “My sister made me the most amazing protein smoothie this morning and it really got me going, you know? I feel ready to handle whatever gets thrown my way now!”

Heather laughs and says something but Stiles forgets to pay attention and zooms out. He thinks about Derek and about what an idiot he is, how much of an asshole he can be and how much he wants to kiss him and lick him and – not just that. This isn’t about the sex, he realized that years ago. Maybe if his feeling for Derek were purely physically he could deal with them, get over them or maybe even accept them somewhat. But that isn’t the problem. The problem is that _he’s in love_ with this stupid idiot and it’s driving him utterly insane.

“Stiles?”

He looks at Heather. “Oh, sorry, where you talking about me?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Our coffee is ready,” she says and hands him a cup. When he wants to pay for it Paige reminds him that she sort of owes him one and he just smiles, thanks her and finds a table with Heather.

“So when did you go home last night anyway?” he asks her.

She shrugs. “Around six, I think?” she says. “You guys left pretty early.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “It was time to go,” he just says and Heather only answers with a short nod.

They talk about what she’s doing with her life (college, first yeah, studies literature like Derek, wants to be a writer) what he’s doing with his life (High School, friends, that’s it), their favorite books, favorite movies, favorite food, favorite drinks, favorite everything. They talk a lot about school, they talk a lot about choosing the right college. They talk a lot about grades and teachers and professors. Heather talks about her previous boyfriend, Clark, and why he was an asshole. Stiles talks about his family. He tells her about little Isaac, his nieces, his dad, Melissa, Scott and Laura and Derek, his friends, Lydia, Allison and the twins, he tells her a bit about his mother, a bit about New Year’s Eve, a bit about the day school was closed because of snow. She tells him about her grandparents, about her mom and dad, about her sister and her horrible relationships. She tells him about wanting to be an actress, then a model and finally a writer. Talking with Heather is easier than he thought it would be. They fill the awkward silences with bad jokes and tries to change the subject often enough that the conversation is still interesting.

They go on like that for nearly two hours before Paige interrupts them. She looks at Stiles with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” he asks.

“Where is your phone?” she asks.

He sends her a puzzled look and hands her his phone. She examines and sighs. “Dead,” she says and he shrugs indifferently. Then he notices that she’s on the phone with someone. “He’s right here, he’s phone is dead,” she says to whoever she’s talking to. “Well, how would I know? Then get your ass down here you – Oh, that’s really not my problem, D. Yes. Call Boyd. And? Again, it’s really not – yeah, yeah, okay. Bye.”

When she hangs up she turns to glare at Stiles. “What did I do?” he asks.

“Mind telling me why your brother is coming down here in five minutes?”

He stares at her and just keeps staring because it really doesn’t make any sense, what she just said. “Derek?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, Scott. Yes of course it’s Derek! You know what, it’s not my problem,” and then she turns around and leaves them.

“Wow,” Heather says, “it certainly isn’t boring drinking coffee with you.”

Stiles tries to laugh but he can’t. He has a bitter taste on his tongue and more than anything he just wants to get up and leave before Derek can get down here because he doesn’t want to deal with him or even look at him right now but of course he _can’t_ do that.

“Hey, Stiles? You okay?” Heather takes his hands and intertwines their fingers like yesterday but he hardly even registers it. She doesn’t pull away and neither does he and when Derek comes running through the door seven minutes later they’re still holding hands. When he sees them his face goes through a clusterfuck of emotions before he settles on anger.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He says in that cold voice he uses when he’s dead serious.

Stiles can feel his heart beat too fast in his chest. “Right here,” he answers.

“Then why the fuck did you not leave me a note?” Derek throws back.

Now Stiles can feel the anger as well, making his blood boil and his fingers twist. “Why should I?”

Derek grits his teeth. “I was worried sick!”

“You? Worried sick over me? For some reason I find that a little hard to believe.”

Derek freezes, Stiles isn’t even sure he’s breathing at this point. Then: “Is this about last night?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. He hardly even registers Heather squeezing his hand, Paige watching them or the other customers giving them odd looks. “Oh I don’t know, what do you think, Derek?”

“I think Boyd got you home just fine on his – “

“But it’s not Boyd’s _job_ to get me home just fine on his own!” Stiles shouts frustrated. “It’s yours.”

“I thought a seventeen year old kid could take care of himself,” Derek spits.

“I thoughts so too,” Stiles spits back, “which is why I didn’t leave you a fucking note!”

“It would’ve taken you three seconds – “

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point, Stiles? What is it? Did it ever occur that I might worry over you?”

“No because you fucking left me yesterday!”

“I’m sorry, okay, I was an asshole!”

“Yeah, you are!”

 “Stiles?”

Stiles and Derek both turn to look at Heather, still holding Stiles’ hand in hers. Stiles swallows hard, feels some of the anger leave him slowly. “I think we should do this some other time, yeah?” she suggests.

“What? No, sorry, we’re done now – “

“No we’re not,” Derek growls.

Stiles sends him his most deadly glare but Heather just smiles. “It’s fine,” she says. “It was fun. We’ll finish it another day, yeah?”

Stiles inhales sharply. “Okay. Thank you.”

Another smile and when they both get up from the table she leans forward and kisses him on his lips. “See you.”

And he doesn’t have time to react before she turns around and leaves. When he looks back up at Derek he looks like he’s ready to kill Stiles but the younger boy just rolls his eyes and gestures for Derek to sit down. Might as well get this over with, it’s not like things can get any more tense and awkward than they already are.

Stiles leans back and watches his stepbrother in what he hopes is a cold and cool way. In truth his heart is beating so hard it must be actually visible.

“Continue,” he says.

It’s Derek’s turn to roll his eyes. “Could you stop being immature for one second?”

“Oh yeah because you’re acting like a real grown-up, way to go, Derek,” Stiles snorts.

Derek sighs. “Look,” he says through gritted teeth, “if you’d just left a note we wouldn’t be having this argument.”

“No,” Stiles says, “if you’d just acted like a decent person last night and not left me we wouldn’t be having this argument.”

This time Derek swallows hard and looks down as if he’s suddenly too embarrassed to even look at Stiles. The youngest freezes and for a moment neither of them say anything. Stiles is staring at Derek rather shamelessly and he remembers when he was only eleven years old and he got lost in the woods and his entire family was out looking for him and all of the sudden mini-Stiles heard Derek’s loud, clear voice shout his name and he instantly shouted back and when Derek a few minutes later wrapped his strong, safe arms around Stiles they both started sobbing.

“You’re right,” Derek says. He doesn’t look up but keeps glaring at the table. “I was and idiot. Sorry.”

Stiles clenches his fists to keep them from shaking. “Okay,” he says. “I’m sorry too, then.”

Derek looks up and meets Stiles’ eyes and the way he _looks_ at Stiles makes the younger one’s heart skip several beats

“It’s just,” Derek says, “you… After that whole thing in winter when you fell though the ice and everything.” He shakes his head and looks down again and Stiles is too perplexed, too unprepared to be able to reply.

“You have a tendency to get into trouble,” Derek finally sighs.

“So do you,” Stiles says with a smile that never reaches his eyes.

Derek smirks but doesn’t comment and then neither of them say anything for a few minutes. It’s almost… nice sitting on a café with Derek, just the two of them, in silence, steeling glances of the other person every now and again.

“Look I should go,” Derek says suddenly and gets up. And then he adds in a somewhat bitter tone: “Sorry about your date.”

Stiles gets that horrible taste in his mouth again. “Yeah,” he breathes, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

Derek just nods and then he turns around to leave but Stiles changes his mind and grabs his arm. “Hey,” he says, “why were you in such a lousy mood yesterday anyway?”

Derek looks at him and instead of answering he just smiles. “See you later,” he says and then he leaves.

\--

 _Not_ arguing with Derek in awesome. It certainly makes everything a lot easier. That evening when Stiles enters the apartment Boyd and Derek are on the couch watching a shark-movie (very manly-manly Stiles supposes and he doesn’t mention that Scott and him would prefer a gossip girl-marathon) and when he walks in both of them look up and give him easy smiles and Derek tells him there’s pizza on the counter. He grabs a piece and joins them on the too-small couch. He’s probably sitting too close to Derek and he should probably worry about it. Or maybe he shouldn’t, who knows at this point.

Anyway, watching the manly-manly-shark-movie with lots of naked woman and buff men (god, who comes up with this shit?) is surprisingly nice. Easy. Some might even go as far as to – dare he – use the word fun. And after the movie they find another one and they watch that one together as well and it never becomes an issue that Stiles can feel the muscles in Derek’s arm flex every time he moves or laughs or the fact that their knees keep bumping together.

Afterwards Derek orders Boyd home and decides to take a shower. While he’s in there Stiles is left alone on the couch. He can hear the water running, he can hear Derek hum, he can hear the old, shitty pipes whine and complain. He can hear everything and he sighs and lies down and by the time Derek is done he’s fast asleep.

When he wakes up in the middle of night because he can barely breathe it takes him a while to register why.

He’s still on the couch, still in his shirt and shorts but without his shoes and with a blanket over him. And he’s so hot he’s boiling. He quickly pulls his t-shirts off and changes his shorts. Then he stops and listens: Derek is breathing heavily in his own bedroom.

Stiles clenches his jaw before he tip-toes to the bedroom door. Very carefully he opens it. He takes a step into the dark room. And another one and another one. He’s been in this room before a few times but it looks different in the dark, almost surreal, like it’s taken from a dream. On his right there’s a closet and on the left is –

A bed. A large, comfortable bed with a sleeping Derek on it. He looks relaxed and so very young when he’s asleep. Stiles can’t help but smiles a little. He walks slowly to the bed and again looks down at his older stepbrother. Swallowing hard he leans down and before he knows what he’s doing he presses a quick, tender kiss to Derek’s forehead.

Derek makes this odd sound and Stiles’ heart stops beating. But when he dares to look down again Derek is still fast asleep. He swallows a sigh of relief, turns around and quickly leaves the bedroom.


	6. Listening to happy summer songs on the radio, the taste of ice cream on the tip of the tongue, sand between the toes and the smell of chlorine heavy in the air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is my apology to you guys - I hadn't originally intended for the story to turn out so angsty, sorry about that.   
> Where I am it's freaking cold so this chapter is also me daydreaming about warmer weather while it's snowing outside.

Day six out of sixteen. Stiles is in the kitchen making breakfast while Derek’s out for a run. It’s past noon, the temperature is rising and the sun is shining in through the kitchen window.

Yesterday – day five – was surprisingly good. When Stiles woke up on the couch a little past 11 Derek had left for work and left a note telling Stiles to go buy them some groceries. He did and he also maybe bought a little more than what they strictly speaking need but he felt kinda bad for eating all of Derek’s food, so. When Derek came home that evening Stiles had made dinner (nothing fancy, just some chicken and a salad) and they watched a movie while they ate. Stiles proposed the idea that Derek got himself a table but the older male pointed out that there literally wasn’t room anywhere in the apartment. Stiles wanted to ask if Derek had ever had any girlfriends with him home for a romantic dinner on the couch but then he also sort of didn’t. Also, for all Stiles knew he might’ve brought a boy with him home instead. Not that Stiles had ever actually heard of Derek dating a boy. But then again he’s never really heard of any girls he’s dated either. Expect Paige, of course. But he knows he had dated girls, he knows he’d brought them home to show them his place. And probably boys as well. The only reason Stiles even knows Derek is bisexual is because he’d told them all one evening. They’d been eating and then he’d just said “I like both girls and boys” and everyone went deadly silent until Melissa said “we know that, honey, now pass me the salt.” A few months later Stiles gathered up the courage to tell everyone as well in much the same manner. They were in the living room when he said “remember that time when we were eating a few months ago and Derek told everyone he also like boys? Well, guess what, me too” and his father has said “great, Stiles, proud of you, go fetch me some chips” and Melissa had said “very proud, sweetie, do _not_ fetch him some chips!” And afterwards Stiles had looked at Derek and Derek had looked at Stiles and they both smiled and nodded like they made this agreement that _yeah we’re okay_ and they were. They still are.  

Derek even asked if Stiles wanted to come with him for his morning run (a question Stiles chose to answer with a loud, slightly insane laughter) but Stiles said he’d make them both breakfast instead and Derek had looked pleased, he’d looked happy.

And when they’re not arguing, when the tension between them is actually bearable it’s not so bad. He might actually get used to living in Derek’s tiny, shitty apartment. Because hanging out with his stepbrother is okay when they’re not shouting or ignoring each other or anything like that. And for the time being things can be great. And it’s not like they’ve addressed the actual issue yet, it’s not like they’ve talked about their problems (and boy do they have a lot of those) or anything but they’ve still blown off some steam, there isn’t the same tension when they talk and that’s as good as it’s ever going to get with those two. And Stiles knows that it’s only temporary – they’re Stiles and Derek, Derek and Stiles, this truce between them won’t last forever but he’s sure as hell going to enjoy it while it lasts.

Derek opens the door and half-jogs into the apartment.

“Yo,” Stiles calls. “I see you haven’t died.”

“I’m afraid not,” Derek says. “What are you making?”

“Scramble eggs. Now get your ass inside and close the damn door, you dog,” Stiles hisses.

Derek rolls his eyes but follows order nevertheless.

“Hey,” Derek says when they’re eating, “it’s getting really warm today, you wanna go to the beach?”

Stiles almost chokes on his eggs but manages not to die. “Yeah, sure, yes, sounds nice. Love to.”

Smooth, Stilinski, _smooth._

“Okay I’ll call Boyd then. Paige as well, probably.”

Before Stiles knows what he’s doing he’s saying: “Can we bring Heather as well?”

Derek’s jaw clenches but he says “sure” and gets up from the couch. Two hours later and Stiles and Derek are in Derek’s clack Camaro. They’re headed for Boyd’s first and then Paige and last Heather. They spent at least thirty minutes arguing over what car to take.

“It would be so much easier!” Stiles had whined loudly.

“We are not taking your piece of – “

“You should be very careful about what you say now, Derek. This is my amazing jeep and I will _not_ have – “

“I swear to god – “

“We are not taking your black Camaro, Derek.”

“Yes we are,” the oldest concluded sternly.

And apparently they are because Stiles is sitting next to Derek in the front seat of said black car, the radio is blasting out the same song Stiles heard six days ago when he drove to College City in the first place. The trunk is fool of towels and cold beer. Stiles is singing along to the pop song and Derek pretends he is horrified but Stiles can see that he is secretly drumming happily on the steering wheel.

Boyd waits for them outside his apartment complex. Kyle is waiting with him as well as Kyle’s still-nameless girlfriend. When they see them Stiles can’t help but remember what Kyle had asked of them and he very deliberately does not look at Derek.

“Hey,” Kyle shouts. “How are you?”

“Great,” Stiles shouts back and hopes Kyle doesn’t notice the slightly bitter tone hiding under his cheering self.

“Wondered if you’d give us a lift? Little Post street, you know where that?” Kyle asks Derek.

“By-street to Lower Beech Lane?” he asks.

“Yes,” Kyle says and he’s already halfway into the car. The nameless, blonde girls gives them all a bright smile when she enters as well and if any of them noticed how Stiles had left right after the question to kiss Derek at the party a few days ago then none of them mention it.

The pop song is still blasting loud and obnoxious and Stiles still sings along. Nameless girl joins him and Kyle, Boyd and Derek try to have a conversation over their loud noise. It’s practically impossible.

After they drop off Kyle and his girlfriend they pick up Paige. She’s waiting outside her sister’s apartment complex next to her sister who waves when she leaves. She’s as gorgeous as ever in her mini-shorts and white t-shirt and Stiles can’t help but wonder if Derek notices how she sends him a smile that lingers a little while longer than the ones she gave Boyd and Stiles.

Heather lives in a house just next to campus with five other girls. All six of them are sitting outside when Derek stops the car, some of them smoking, most of them enjoying the heating sun. Heather smiles brightly when she sees them and jumps out of her chair. Stiles opens his door to greet her properly.

“Hey,” he says and gives her a hug. “You ready?”

“Sure,” she beams. “Oh,” she continues and gestures to the five girls now watching Stiles with obvious interest in their eyes, “those are my girlfriends, but never mind those.”

“Hey!” one of them shouts.

Heather just laughs and follows Stiles to the car. “Hey,” she says to everyone inside. Paige gives her a short hug, Boyd smiles and Derek gives her a curt nod. Stiles tries to not to read anything into Derek’s displeasure but it’s hard not to wonder.

“Okay, I’m ready, let’s go,” Stiles says and closes the door.

“Sure,” Derek says, turns up the radio and leaves.

\--

The beach is not actually a beach. It’s a fake beach with fake sand and water that’s neither salty nor fresh. Basically it’s a pool made to looks like the beach because the actual beach would take days to reach. It’s located about thirty minutes outside of College City but still in Beacon Hills County. By the time the black Camaro pulls into the parking lot the beach-that-isn’t-really-a-beach is filled with people. Most of them young adults or teenagers, drinking and listening to loud music or generally just sucking up some sun, but there’s also a few families there as well.

“Man, remember when dad and Melissa used to take us here at least once every summer? And there’d be all these kids drinking and dad would be like on his way to ask for ID and shit and Melissa had to force him to sit down and enjoy the weather?” Stiles asks as he grabs his towel and some beers. “He’d be mad if he knew you were letting me drink beer.”

“I’m not,” Derek says and takes the beer from him. “At parties I’ll pretend you’re twenty-one but not here.”

“What, like it’s better if you drink it? You’re driving, remember?” Stiles whines and tries to grab the beer from him.

Derek rolls his eyes and force Stiles back with a hand to the chest. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Well, one could argue – “

“You’re driving,” he says and hands Stiles the keys. For a moment he’s too perplexed to do or say anything. He stands there with the cold keys in his hand and stares at them as if they’re something foreign and unknown to him.

“Are you two ready?” Paige shouts. She’s now only wearing a bright red bikini and a pair of slippers. Next to her Heather is down to a bathing suit and a towel while Boyd is still dressed in swimming trunks and his shirt.

“Yeah,” Derek shouts back. “Go ahead.”

Paige shrugs and the three of them head to the beach.

Stiles is still just standing there, with the car keys, because this is – holy shit, this is the actual keys to Derek’s actual car and _he’s going to let Stiles drive it_! Derek never lets anyone drive his car. _Never_. It’s a rule, no one is to touch Derek’s car. Ever in a million years. And yet he’s letting Stiles drive it, holy mother of –

“Stiles?”

“You’re going to let me drive?” he asks dumbfounded because this has to be a mistake, Derek would never –

“Sure,” the older male shrugs indifferently as if this isn’t that big of a deal. Which it totally is.

“But… why?” Stiles has to ask.

Derek gives him an amused look and pats his shoulder once. “I trust you,” he says nonchalant and then he heads for the beach as well. Stiles stares at him for a moment, allows himself to look at his strong back, before he follows, a bright smile plastered on his face.

\--

“What took you guys so long?” Paige asks.

Derek just shrugs and sits down on the sand next to her towel. Stiles spreads out his towel next to Heather’s and she takes his hand as soon as he sits down. He wants to say that that’s a good thing – a hot, older girl holding his hand in public – but…

Stiles looks at Derek out of the corner of his eyes and he remembers the way he taste, the way his eyes glistens when he’s about to cry, how his hands feel against Stiles’ skin.

“You okay?” Heather asks.

“Sure,” he shrugs and looks away from his stepbrother.

“You guys worked it out, didn’t you?” she asks him. “The whole thing?”

“Oh,” he says, “yeah, we did. Sorry you had to leave so suddenly, we’d only just started to talk – “

“I get it,” she says. “Family emergency.”

Oh, if only.

“What about you, got any siblings?” he asks her.

“Two brothers,” she says. “They’re a pain in the ass.”

“Younger or older?” he asks as they both lay down on their towels. Heather is still holding onto his hand.

“One of each. Peter is two years younger, Damon is three years older. Also in college. He wants to be a judge one day. And he probably will be, he’s the kind of guy who just decides to do stuff and then does them. Like it’s no big deal.”

Stiles laughs and closes his eyes. “Yeah, my older sister Laura is like that as well. When she was in college she got pregnant and she just decided that it was going to work out. And it did, you know. She didn’t drop out, she took an extra job to support herself, she got great grades and afterwards she started working full time for this really big company. Then a few years later she was hired by this even greater company and just this winter she got another job at that company’s, like, opponent, or whatever. She’s super busy but she still has time for the girls and us and she comes for dinner at least twice every month no matter what. She’s just, you know, a great person. She really is.”

Heather sits up and looks at him then and Stiles opens his eyes and looks back at her. “She sounds really amazing.”

“Sorry, I went on a rant,” he mumbles.

“No, no, it’s fine. I like listening to you talk, Stiles. Especially about things you love. Like your sister.”

“Yeah, well, she’s awesome,” Stiles smiles. Heather returns the smile easily and it’s so bright and warm and earnest. Stiles should feel thousands of butterflies in his stomach just looking at her, she’s exactly his type of girl – smart and down to earth – and yet there’s just nothing there. He doesn’t feel anything when she holds his hand.

“Tell me about your other siblings,” Heather encourages.

“Oh, man,” Stiles sighs. “Well, there’s Scott. He’s also seventeen. We’ve known each other since kindergarten. When I was eight my mom died and when I was ten my dad married Scott’s mom Melissa. She awesome, by the way, absolutely amazing. Scott and I, we are best friends. And brothers. We know everything about each other.”

Well, almost everything. Stiles has never plucked up the courage to tell Scott about Derek. And he never will. Too much is at risk, too much to lose.

“And then there’s little Isaac,” he continues. “God, his father treated him like shit. You should’ve seen him when he first came to our house. Or actually, it’s probably better you didn’t. He was so scared. He still is, at times. Sometimes, you know, I wonder if it’ll really be okay, if he’ll ever really be able to trust anyone fully. It’s like…” He shakes his head. “But he’s great. I love him. He always gets into trouble. Sometimes, I admit, it might partly be my fault, but you know.”

She doesn’t say anything; she just smiles silently as plead for him to continue.

“Well, then there’s the twins. Malia and Cora.” He laughs. “God, those two. I mean, they’re something. They’re – they’re just gorgeous, you know? They’re beautiful, both of them. They’re loud, they talk so much, they have so much energy. I have no idea who their father is and it doesn’t matter. They’re all Laura’s. I love them.”

This time he looks at her and she’s still, for some reason, smiling. “I wasn’t lying,” she says when she notices his puzzled look. “I do enjoy listening to you talk. You’re very enthusiastic. You clearly love your family.”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Last but not least,” she laughs, “we have Derek.”

Stiles hoped she wouldn’t notice if he didn’t mention him. But, of course it’d also seem weird if he mentioned everyone else expect his oldest brother.

“Well, uh, he’s awesome too,” he quickly states.

Boyd and Paige, who’ve been listening to the conversation, laugh loudly at this. Stiles dares to look up and he meets Derek’s eyes and there’s this split second where Stiles can hardly breathe.

Then Paige throws an arm around Derek’s shoulders. “You’re awesome,” she laughs and kisses his cheek. Derek growls and Paige laughs louder.

“Well, yeah, he is,” Stiles shrugs. And then before he knows it he’s _talking_ : “He’s too grumpy, like seriously, how old are you, Derek, sometimes you act like you’re fifty and tired of life itself.” Paige, Heather and Boyd all laugh. “But then, you know, when you’re not – when _he’s_ not – angry he’s actually kind of… great. He’s great.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything else, he just looks into Derek’s darker eyes and he can’t look away. He wants to say something more, so much more. He wants to tell them how Derek’s an asshole a lot of the time, how he really is grumpy and angry and acts like a bitter, old man sometimes but also about how he really is great. He can be funny, freaking hilarious, when he want to. Most of the time he’s silent but sometimes he’s also so loud and it’s amazing. When he talks he has so much to say. He’s brilliant, fucking smart, and he’s sassy and sarcastic but Stiles loves all that about him. He _loves_ him.

“Aw, you hear that, D?” Paige says. “You’re great.”

Heather laughs and places her head on Stiles’ shoulder.

Derek and Stiles are both silent, looking at one another for a second longer, before they both look away.

“Someone wants to swim?” Stiles asks.

“I’m game,” Heather says and the two of them get up from the towels.

“I’ll stay a while,” Paige says. “Keep me company?” she asks Derek.

The boy just shrugs.

Boyd joins Heather and Stiles in the water.

\--

It’s getting darker. Heather and Paige are near the water trying to build a sand castle. Derek is reading some book Stiles hadn’t even noticed he’d brought along and Stiles and Boyd are playing noughts and crosses in the sand. The beer they brought along is all gone. The others are all slightly tipsy at this point but Stiles is painfully sober. Not that he minds. Not as long as he gets to drive the freaking car home.

The tenth time Boyd wins over Stiles he plainly gives up. He throws his arms in the air and declares Boyd the ultimate victor. The other boy just snorts.

“Think it’s time for us to head home?” Derek asks from where he’s been reading.

“Yeah,” Boyd nods. “Kyle said he’d drop by tonight. You gonna come as well?”

“Work early tomorrow,” Derek says.

“I’ll get the girls,” Stiles announces.

Fifteen minutes later and they’re heading for the car.

Two minutes later and they’re at the car.

Five minutes later and they’re in the car.

At this point Stiles is slightly trembling.

“You sure about this?” he asks.

“Come on, Stiles!” Paige shouts but he ignores her.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Derek says. “You’re not going to ruin it or anything.”

“But, you don’t trust anyone with this beauty,” Stiles stage-whispers.

Derek rolls his eyes. “True, but I trust _you_.”

Stiles blushes like a stupid teenage girl at this.

“Adorable,” Paige says, “now go.”

It’s Stiles turn to roll his eyes but he follows orders nevertheless.

Driving in the Camaro is terrifying. 

“Relax,” Derek orders sternly.

“I can’t, what if something happens?” he whines and continues driving like three miles per hour.

“Nothing will happen.”

“Easy for you to say, it’s not you who’s going to get killed when – “

“I’m not going to murder you,” Derek sighs.

“You promise?”

“For crying out loud, just drive a little faster, please.”

To calm his nerves they start playing a game. It has no name and frankly it stupid but basically they have to say who’d be the best at something random. They decide Heather would be the best president out of all them, Boyd the best secret agent, Paige the best millionaire and now they’re debating whether Stiles or Derek would make a better Queen of England.

“Stiles,” Paige says.

“What? Derek,” Heather chimes in.

“Derek?” Stiles shrieks. “You got to be kidding me. Have you noticed what a downer he is? He’d suck at being the queen. No sense of humor, poor conversationalist.”

Derek snorts. “Like you’d be any better? Skinny, defenseless Stiles as the Queen of what exactly? _Sarcasm_?”

“Don’t get sassy on me,” Stiles says. “Sarcasm is my only defense, Derek. I’m a 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” Derek grunts.

“Boys, behave,” Paige warns them.

Derek just snorts but Stiles can’t help but smile to himself. Every now again he steal a glance of Derek looking out of the window, the evening sun hitting him just right through the windows and he can’t help but smile even wider.

They drop Paige off first, then Boyd and at last Heather. She leans forward between the two front seats and gives Stiles a kiss on the cheek.

“See you,” she says. “Bye, Derek.”

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes.

Derek still only grunts.

They drive home in silence but despite it all it isn’t uncomfortable. Stiles could get used to driving with Derek in silence, listening to happy summer songs on the radio, the taste of ice cream on the tip of his tongue, sand between his toes and the smell of chlorine heavy in the air.


	7. Sunburns from hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I'm updating already. I have no life. Oh well. I can now tell you that there'll be around 11 or 12 chapters. I will also be udpating the list of characters after this chapter.

“Stiles!”

“ _Scotty!_ ”

“God, man, how are you?”

Stiles shifts where he’s located on the couch to get more comfortable and immediately afterwards has to bite down hard on his lower lip not to groan out in pain.

“I’m peachy,” he moans into the phone and sighs heavily.

“Dude, what’s wrong?” Scott asks on the other end of the line. Stiles can hear vague sounds of birds in the background and what sounds like people talking in the distance.

“Sunburn,” Stiles complains. “I went to the beach yesterday and I didn’t notice it until later but, holy god, my back is the color of an uncooked beef, it’s horrible.”

Scott laughs and its then that Stiles truly realize how much he misses his brother. It’s Saturday and he won’t see Scott until next Tuesday.

“Not funny, nothing laughable about your dear brother twisting in pure agony, Scotty,” he complains.

Scott stifles his laughter. “You’re right, sorry. So, did you go alone or what? What’s going on, Stiles?”

“Not much,” he lies. “I went with Boyd and Paige. You remember Paige, right? And Derek and Heather.”

“And who is Heather?” Stiles can practically hear Scott smirking.

“A friend.”

“You sure?”

“God, Scott, why do I even bother contacting you?”

“Now I’m the one twisting in agony, that wasn’t very nice, Stiles,” Scott whines.

Stiles sighs and rolls his eyes. “Fine. Tell me about Allison’s family. How alive are you on a scale from one to ten, dude?”

“Speaking of scales,” Scott says. “I sent you a text the other day, night actually, you were very drunk, and I asked you how drunk you were and you never answered me. So,” he stops for a second or two, “how drunk were you?”

Stiles groans louder this time and runs a hand through his hair. “Very, very drunk.”

“How – “

“ _Jesus_ , not now, Scotty!” Stiles snaps and then immediately feels bad. He inhales sharply, swallows hard and says: “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that. It’s just… this clusterfuck hurts like hell and I don’t want to talk about the party, please.”

Scott is oddly silent on the other end of the line for a little too long for comfort, Stiles thinks. Then he hears shuffling, like Scott is walking through a forest or something, and then he says: “Are you okay?”

Stiles closes his eyes, furrows his eyebrows hard and clenches his free hand where it rests in his lap. “I actually am,” he says.

“You and Derek okay? I mean,” Scott sighs, “after the incident New Year’s Eve I thought – “

“No,” Stiles interrupts, “we’re good, everything’s good. So, how is the wild life treating you?”

Luckily for Stiles – and his sanity – Scott is very easily distracted.

“It’s okay, I mean, Allison and I have our own tent and everything, but, you know.” He sighs. “I’m not kidding with the family, they are trying to _murder me_.”

“Dude,” Stiles says, “why are you whispering?”

“They can hear me!”

At this Stiles can’t help but laugh. Scott’s obvious melodramatic concern for his own well-being only makes Stiles miss him – and Allison – all the more and suddenly next Tuesday is a very long time away. He kinda wants to jump into his jeep and drive to Scott’s immediately but he can’t for reasons. One of those reasons being his back and the sunburn coloring it a deep red, so bright it’s currently competing with the Beacon Hills County’s most beautiful sunsets.

“If that happens I promise to bake multiply cakes for your funeral.”

“Will there be music?” Scott pouts.

“Good music,” Stiles promises.

“And pot?”

Stiles laughs louder. “You do realize that one, you’ve never smoked pot and two, your stepdad is the sheriff, right?”

“You do realize that one, your one doesn’t matter and two, you’re totally right.”

“I miss you, Scotty,” Stiles whines and this time it’s Scott’s turn to laugh.

“I miss you, too, buddy,” he says. “Have you talked to Isaac or Laura?”

“Nope,” Stiles says and pops the ‘p’ loudly. “I’ll call them tonight.”

“Good idea,” Scott agrees. “I have to go now, Mr. Argent is going to take me hiking.”

He sounds positively scared shitless.

“Remember those cakes I’ll bake,” Stiles says. “And if he takes out a gun better start running, my boy.”

Scott just whines before he hangs up.

Left alone on the couch, wearing no shirt and in too much pain to focus on anything on the television Stiles is forced to stare right ahead, looking out of the kitchen window from which he can see absolutely nothing interesting.

A girl in the complex on the other side is trying to wash her windows but she keeps spilling water at the people walking by underneath her.

In an apartment a few windows to the left there’s a cat in an open window, just walking from one side to the other, until it suddenly falls off and lands in the pile of girls passing by underneath it. They scream very loudly but one of them also manages to grab the cat. A few seconds later and a boy sticks his head out of the window where the cat fell. When he sees the girls and the cat he starts shouting apologies, meanwhile the girls washing her windows has dropped what appears to be an entire bucket of water onto an older man who’s now threatening to kill her or something. She disappears for a few seconds only to re-appear with a knife in her hand and even thought Stiles can’t hear what she’s saying he doubts she’s apologizing any more.

“Hey,” Derek shouts when he enters.

“Hey,” Stiles says.

“Do you – Why are you not wearing any clothes?”

Stiles rolls his eyes but he can feel himself blushing very hard and he doesn’t look up at Derek. “I am wearing clothes. Just not, you know, a shirt.”

“Put on a shirt then,” Derek growls.

“No, I have a fucking sunburn and it hurts, for fucking _fuck_!”

Stiles can’t help but hiss out in pain and he closes his eyes before he sighs deeply and clenches both his fists.

Derek is silent for a few minutes and Stiles doesn’t dare look at him. This whole no-shirt situation is not ideal but what else can he do. At this point even the fresh air hurts his skin. He can’t do anything but sit on this couch and wait for it to get better.

Then he hears him go into the bathroom and a few minutes later he returns.

“Turn around,” he orders merciless.

Stiles opens one eye and looks at him. “What?”

“Turn around,” he repeats. “Now.”

“Why?” Stiles demands to be told.

Derek looks like he’s ready to murder Stiles but instead of answering he just holds up one hand and shows Stiles a wet cloth as if that explains everything.

“Turn around, please don’t make me ask you again.”

“Oh, so this is you asking me, is it?”

This time Derek practically ignores his comment and gestures for him to move over so there’s also room for him on the couch. Stiles does so and he even turns his back to Derek as he demands. He feels naked, exposed and vulnerable sitting there and it’s probably stupid because he wasn’t wearing any shirt yesterday either, they’ve seen each other’s dicks, they’ve kissed, they’ve grown up together and suddenly Derek looking at his sunburn is a big deal.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says and then he places the wet, cold cloth gently against Stiles’ skin.

The sudden feel of it against his burn makes him shout and move away. “Motherfucker, what – “

“I said I was sorry,” Derek says. “Come on.”

Stiles glares at him over his shoulder, sends the cloth an angry look and then gives up. He settles back on his previous spot almost in between Derek’s legs. Again Derek puts the cold cloth against his burning skin and even though the feel of it is uncomfortable and he hisses it’s also amazing; the coldness, the wetness, it’s good for his skin and it calms him down, even makes it hurt less.

After a few seconds he inhales deeper and his shoulders slacken. It begins to feel pretty amazing what Derek’s doing. His hands are so very, very gentle. He doesn’t rub the cloth against his angry skin, just places it carefully against the sunburn so it will stop itching and burning.

None of them say anything as they sit like that on the couch. Stiles is too relaxed to care about anything but when the cloth starts to warm up and it begins to very slowly lose it effect and Derek still doesn’t move, Stiles allows his mind to wander.

Derek’s hands feel so good on his skin. Just the fact that Derek is actually willingly touching him is incredible. And the touches are simply amazing as well. They feel so good, they are so gentle, so careful. Derek’s right behind him, so close Stiles can practically feel his hot breath against his neck. All of it is almost too much for him to handle and he bites his lip not to moan though that is exactly what he wants to do.

There’s something very intimate about the whole thing. And maybe it’s because they’re sitting in total silence or maybe it’s because it’s Derek and Stiles or maybe it’s Derek’s hand running over Stiles’ warm skin. Maybe it’s simply all of it.

“Is it okay?” Derek ask and Stiles swallows hard, trying to drown his moans and pleas and ‘god fucking dammit just kiss me’ that threatens to spill from his red lips.

“Yeah,” he says and he hopes to god Derek doesn’t notice how breathless he suddenly is. “Thanks.”

Derek doesn’t answer, just continues to gently cool down Stiles’ back and shoulders. He continues like this until the cloth is warm and it isn’t cooling any longer. Then he slowly pulls away and stands up. Stiles wants to tell him to sit back down again but he bites his lip to keep the words inside.

“Stay put, I’ll go rinse this then I’ll come back,” Derek says in a low voice before he disappears into the bathroom once more. When he’s gone Stiles doesn’t dare move a muscle, too afraid that if he does then Derek won’t come back.

He does come back and he sits back down behind Stiles and he starts running the fabric over his skin.

“Better?” he asks, still in that painfully low, slightly hoarse voice.

“Very,” Stiles says. He tries not to focus too much on the gentle fingers, the slow movements, the intimacy of it all.

“Good. Aunt Talia used to do this for me and Laura when we got sunburned, you know, back when we used to spend some weeks with Peter every summer. She was always there with us and it was mostly her we visited anyway.”

“It’s been a while since you visited her,” Stiles says carefully. He is also talking in a low, gentle voice. As if loud words might break this spell they’re currently under.

“Yes,” Derek agrees. “There’s been so much. And we hardly ever saw her except for when we were with Peter so it’s just difficult, I guess. I should call her.”

“You should.” Stiles has only met Talia Hale once but he – like everyone else – immediately found himself mesmerize by her gentle, strong spirit and easy smiles.

“I think she’s still morning,” Derek confesses.

Stiles doesn’t know what to answer. He knows the story about Talia Hale who lost her only son and her husband in a fire almost twenty years ago. Laura and Derek had both been too young at the time to understand what really happened and too young to really experience the loss of their family but it hit Talia – and Peter as well – very hard.

“She doesn’t say it,” he continues after a minute. “But…” He shakes his head.

“She’ll probably love to hear from you,” Stiles whispers.

Derek just hums and continues to cool Stiles’ skin.

“Things like that never truly go away,” Stiles suddenly finds himself saying. “The pain, the loss, the tragedy of it all. It hurts so much, you know, and you never get over it, you just find a way to deal with, to be better, to be okay again. Because you have to. For your own and for your family’s sake.”

Stiles doesn’t even know why he said this in the first place but, well, there he is, just blabbing about his feelings. Maybe it’s better he says how he feels about losing his mother, at least that isn’t confessing his undying love for Derek himself.

The memory of his mother is still so painful. He still has nightmares, he still cries himself to sleep on certain days (the anniversary for her death, her birthday, the day his parents got married) but what he said is true: he’s learned to be deal, has managed to be okay, because there is no other alternative. And on the other side of all that pain he experienced – and is still experiencing – he got a new family. Not a better one just a different one. With siblings and the most amazing stepmother in history.

He’ll be okay for their sake.

Stiles hadn’t even noticed Derek isn’t moving the cloth any more. They’re both just sitting there, lost in their own worlds for a few minutes. Stiles tries not to listen to Derek’s breathing but it hard. It’s a surprisingly calming sound, he finds.

“Sorry, I zoomed out,” Derek mumbles before he starts running the cloth over his back again.

“It’s okay,” Stiles whispers.

“Do you… Do you still miss her?” Derek suddenly asks.

Stiles smiles a little. “Every day, but… It’s okay.”

Derek doesn’t say anything for a while and the silence is different, it’s almost hesitant, as if Derek is thinking, wondering, debating something. And then he takes the cloth away.

“That’s about what I can do,” he says.

“Okay,” Stiles says. He waits for Derek to move away but he doesn’t. Not at first, anyway. And then suddenly there is the press of careful, gentle lips on Stiles’ right shoulder, just above the burn and before Stiles has time to react Derek is up and has disappeared into his own bedroom.

\--

They both silently agree to not mention the sudden touch of affection from Derek’s side. Stiles comes to the conclusion that it was just something that happened because they were talking about relatives and sitting close to one another. He even tries to argue that it might also have happened had it been Scott and Stiles. But, he has to admit, it really, really wouldn’t. So, they do what they do with all their problems: they don’t acknowledge their existence and hope for the best.

Derek buys Stiles some cream for his sunburn and he even applies it but this time they listen to loud music to make sure the same odd, intense silence can fall between them.

The next morning when Stiles wakes up Derek is, once again, at work but he’s left a note saying Stiles can drop by if he is bored and feeling better.

The cream really did wonders for his back and he can once again wear a shirt. He takes one of Derek’s extra-large ones so it barely even touches his skin and then he heads into town.

On the way there he buys a soda for them each because he knows Derek is at work at the bookstore, covering one of Boyd’s shifts, and therefore _not_ drinking his own weight in ice coffee and what else.

The bookshop – ‘Darach bookstore’ – is owned by a man named Deucalion. Derek describes him as ‘blind and creepy’ and that’s all Stiles needs to never want to set food in this precise bookstore. Deucalion is, thank god, not at work so when Stiles opens the door all he is met is the sight of books, books, books and somewhere among the books is Derek.

“Hey,” Stiles says.

Derek, who is sitting behind the counter examining a pile of old books, looks up when Stiles announces his presence.

“Hey. You got bored?” Derek asks.

Stiles just shrugs and walks over to him. “I borrowed your shirt, I hope that’s okay?”

Derek just nods. “It’s fine, it suits you.”

Stiles blushes and doesn’t comment. Instead he takes a look at the books on the counter. “What is all this?”

“I have to check if they’re in a good enough condition or if we’re just going to throw them out.”

“Cool,” Stiles says. He grabs one of them and opens it.

“Think you can do it?” Derek suddenly asks.

“Do what?” Stiles mumbles as he tries to read the first page of the book.

“Check their condition. I’ll start sorting some of the books in that pile instead.” He gestures towards a pile of books in the corner.

“This is totally the only reason you wanted me down here,” Stiles pout as he grabs a few more books and sits down behind the counter. “To do your job.”

“I let you stay in my apartment,” Derek throws back, an amused look on his face.

“Touché,” Stiles says.

They work in comfortable silence. Derek put on some music and the play it loud in the little shop. Every now and again one of them will say something – Stiles comes with a few good jokes, Derek pretends not to laugh – but other than that they are silent and they’re both more than okay with that.

They work like that for nearly two hours. Somewhere within the last hour they started arguing over music. Stiles, who finished his pile of books fifteen minutes ago, is writing down a list of the greatest hits ever. Now and again Derek will tell him why he is utterly and completely wrong but Stiles just starts singing to drown out his voice.

At five Derek closes the shop. There’s been no costumers but they’ve managed to sort all of the books and Derek even washed the floor (while Stiles pretended he was Cinderella and Stiles himself was one of the evil stepsisters).

On their way home Derek asks if Stiles wants to go to a party with him that same evening.

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Stiles asks because really, it didn’t go well the last time, did it now?

“We’ll both decide not to get plastered,” Derek shrugs. “It could be fun.”

Stiles smiles. “It could. Okay then.”

Derek also smiles.

\--

The party isn’t even in College City and they have to drive an hour to get there. Derek is on driving duty so he’s promised to stay sober but Stiles had made a mental note not to drink anything either.

They arrive at the party a little after ten in the evening.

“Dude, how do you even know these people?” Stiles wonders as they enter.

“One of the guys used to date Paige’s sister,” Derek says. “I met him once, he’s nice, we kept in contact.”

“And now he’s inviting you to a party?”

“He invites everyone to his parties,” Derek shrugs.

And he really must do because the house is filled with people. More than Stiles even wants to think about. He inwardly sighs and rethinks his policy about alcohol.

“So,” Stiles shouts over the music, “where to now?”

Derek shrugs. “Come on, let’s find my friend.”

“You’ve met once,” Stiles mumbles.

Derek ignores him – or doesn’t hear him – and puts a hand on his shoulder to guide him through the mess of people.

They find the guy  in the kitchen. He’s surrounded by people, they’re all drinking and talking but when he spots Derek he immediately forgets them all and pulls him in for a tight hug. Stiles is momentarily surprised and then the bitterness spreads in his mouth like venom.

“Derek!” Parrish says. And god fucking he’s beautiful. His _eyes_. Holy fuck.

“Hey,” Derek says.

“Good to see you, I didn’t think you’d come. I’m glad you’re here.”

Is he flirting?

He’s definitely flirting.

Derek seems to come to the same conclusion because he gently takes a step out of the embrace and takes Stiles’ hand and intertwines their fingers. Stiles can’t help but open his eyes wide and stare at Derek in utter surprise but he doesn’t say anything. His heart is beating so loud it might burst.

Parrish’s eyes darts to the hands but his smile doesn’t falter it just turns into a knowing smirk. “And who might this be?” he asks. Then he offers his hand. “Jordan Parrish but you can just call me Parrish like your boyfriend here.”

Stiles opens his mouth to protest but Derek is faster to form any coherent words: “This is Stiles.”

“Nice to meet you, Stiles,” Parrish says and he sounds like he means it.

“You too,” is all Stiles can muster as he shakes Parrish’s hands with the one Derek isn’t holding.

Holy fuck Derek is holding his hand.

Holy fuck these people think Derek and him are dating!

“A beer?” one of Parrish’s friends asks.

“Yes please,” Stiles says and grabs it.

Derek eyes him but doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t pull his hand away and Stiles feels like he’s drowning.

Again.

Holy shit.

“I need a smoke,” Derek suddenly says, “you want one, Stiles?”

Stiles wants to point out that Derek doesn’t smoke but instead he just nods and lets Derek pull him through the house and to the front door once more.

Once they’re outside he immediately lets go of his hand and takes a step away from Stiles.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “I didn’t… I just didn’t want to – “

“I get it,” Stiles says. “It’s okay.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I can pretend to be your boyfriend for one night.”

Their eyes meet.

Neither of them says anything.

Then Derek nods.

“Okay,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” Stiles shrugs. He offers Derek his hand and he takes it with a smile. They go inside again.

\--

Pretending to be Derek’s boyfriend turns out to be pretty damn easy, actually. For the most part they act like they always do just this time they’re also holding hands. That’s it, really, that’s the main difference. They still bicker, still talk, still roll their eyes at the other.

At the moment they’re sitting in the living room on the couch. Stiles is in between Derek’s legs, leaning against his stomach, while the older male is stroking Stiles’ arms or running a hand through his hair.

Parrish is saying something and Stiles can’t help laugh. Parrish is not only handsome he’s also hilarious, slightly awkward and sassy as hell.

“You,” Stiles says and points at Parrish, “I like you. I’m keeping you.”

Parrish and his friends all laugh. “And how does your boyfriend feel about that?” he smirks.

Stiles looks at Derek over his shoulder but the other male just smiles. “He’s fine, the more the merrier, right?”

Derek rolls his eyes but he’s still smiling.

Stiles’ heart is beating too fucking fast.

This is too good to be true.

“Sure, whatever you say, babe,” Derek says.

Stiles blushes at the nickname.

“You guys are adorable,” Parrish informs them.

Stiles smiles, still looking into Derek’s eyes. “We are,” he agrees and then he leans forward and connects their lips in a kiss.


	8. Monopoly is serious buisness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am horrible at writing smut and I'd like to apologize for my incompetence.

They stumble into the unoccupied bedroom, slamming the door shut behind them. When Derek pushes Stiles against said door and attacks his neck with his amazing mouth Stiles is able to reach behind him and lock the door with a promising little ‘click’.

Stiles likes to imagine they left subtly but he seriously doubts it. Both of them going to the bathroom at the same time, practically running upstairs while holding onto one another? Someone must’ve caught on but no one is apparently going to interfere with them.

Stiles’ legs wrap around Derek and he buries his hands in Derek’s soft, dark hair. Derek’s tongue licks a trail from Stiles’ collarbones to his jaw and the younger male gasps and his eyes flutter close. Derek’s hands hold onto Stiles’ hips and make it impossible for Stiles to move but he doesn’t mind. Derek bites down hard on Stiles’ skin and the boy hisses before he yanks at Derek’s dark hair and gets a breathy moan in return.

Derek presses the full weight of his body against Stiles’ and Stiles strains his back in return as if he can possibly get even closer to Derek than he already is.

Which he seriously can’t.

He grabs at Derek’s t-shirt and pulls, pushing his own hands up under the smooth fabric and running them over his back and stomach, touching as much skin as possible. Derek is still working on his neck with that mouth of his when he takes a step back. Stiles clings to Derek’s shoulders now as Derek guides them to the bed in the middle of the room.

Stiles has no idea whose bedroom they’re in but he seriously hopes its Parrish’s.

Landing hard on his back on the bed he bounces a little before Derek settles between his legs that are open wide for him. This time the older male grinds down and rocks his body against Stiles’.

Stiles moans low in his throat at the contact before he takes Derek’s face and guides it down to his own, their lips connecting once more.

He tastes of apple-juice and peppermint. A combination that really shouldn’t be this mind-blowing, but it totally is and Stiles wants to taste more. He pushes his tongue almost ruthlessly into Derek’s mouth and he pulls at the shirt once more.

Derek returns the kiss just as eagerly and with the same desperation-like heat that Stiles’ movements also possesses. There’s something urging about this thing, as if they have a limited amount a time before this safe-haven of theirs will break.

“Please,” Stiles begs against Derek’s lips as he pants heavily into the older male’s hot mouth. “Please.”

“What – what do you want?” Derek asks in his low, hoarse voice that makes something inside of Stiles stir.

“You,” he answers earnestly. He has nothing to lose and they’ve already gotten this far, no reason not to be completely honest about it. “You, please, dammit Derek, I want _you_.”

Derek gasps when Stiles kisses and then bites the tender flesh on his neck hard. Then he runs his tongue over the bruised skin and all the way up to Derek’s earlobe. He nibs as it carefully with his teeth before he takes it into his mouth and sucks it greedily. Derek moans and Stiles can feel how his hands physically tremble. He loves the effect he has on the other male, loves the way he can make him gasp and turn and twist under his careless touches. It’s almost intoxicating.

Stiles still pulls at the shirt and finally Derek sits up and in one movement pulls it over his head and throws it over his shoulder. It lands somewhere next to the locked door and neither of them pays it any attention and this point.

Now that Stiles can actually see and appreciate Derek’s skin he’s sure as hell going to take advantage of that. He lets his hands run eagerly and searching over his abs, licking his own lips as he does so. When he reaches the shoulders once more he can’t help but force Derek down for another messy kiss.

Stiles doesn’t know what he tastes of but he supposes it’s beer or cigarettes. He probably tastes of party and it can’t possibly be a good cocktail but Derek doesn’t seem to do much complaining as he kisses him almost aggressively.

And all the while Derek’s thrust his hips down so he can grind his trapped dick against Stiles’ trapped dick and it’s torture for the both of them but it’s also fucking good so Stiles gasps into Derek’s mouth and clings to his shoulders as if they’re he’s drowning and they’re his lifeline.

“More,” Stiles begs and almost whimpers. “Please.”

Derek pulls back up again and Stiles pulls his own shirt off and tosses it to the floor. Then they both sit up and unzip their jeans.

Stiles’ heart is beating so hard, his fingers are trembling and cold, the blood is pounding in his ears, his throat is dry and his lips are bruised and he loves it.

Getting out of his tight jeans is neither an easy nor a graceful exercise but he manages and so does Derek and before Stiles really has time to comprehend what’s going on they’re both down to just their boxers and then Derek kisses him again with even more passion and desperation than before.

When their dicks rub together now it’s both heaven and hell and Derek and Stiles both moan as they grind shamelessly against one another. Derek is holding onto Stiles and Stiles has his hands in Derek’s hair once more, puling and yanking in rhythm to their bodies moving.

Stiles kisses Derek hard and merciless, he bites down on his lower lip with enough force to break skin and he sucks and licks the lips, runs his teeth over his jaw and pants heavily into his mouth.

Derek accepts everything and gives back all the same. His kisses are fast and hard, his tongue is forceful but delicious, sometimes his teeth will run over Stiles’ tongue and make him wince.

They stay like that for a long time; on their knees on the bed, holding onto each other, letting hands trail from hair to shoulder to ass to back to stomach to shoulder and finally hair again. They grind against one another, letting their erections rub for friction and they kiss and kiss and kiss until they’re out of breath and sweaty and incapable of making coherent thoughts.

It’s Derek who finally manages to push Stiles back down on the bed. It’s Derek who places kisses down Stiles’ neck, shoulder and all the way down his torso. Stiles gasps and his guts clenches with anticipation when Derek’s fingers brush over his painfully hard dick. The older male looks up at Stiles and their eyes lock. Stiles is still panting heavily, his pupils are blown, there are lovebites and hickeys spread all over his body and a single drop of sweat slides slowly down his forehead into his eyes.

“Can I?” Derek asks. His voice is so fucking rough, so hoarse, as if he’s been shouting.

“I don’t know,” Stiles pants because he’s an asshole, even at times like this, “can you?”

At first Derek looks slightly confused, as if it’s hard for him for think clearly through the fog of arousal and lust currently clouding his mind, but then he raises both his eyebrows and rolls his eyes. And Stiles can’t help but smirk devilishly. “May I?” Derek corrects himself.

The smile falters now and Stiles suddenly realizes what Derek is asking. He swallows hard, his heart starts hammering wildly in his chest and all he can do is nod furiously because suddenly it’s hard to even form words that would make any sense once they left his mouth.

Derek licks his lips and slowly takes the boxers off. Stiles’ dick is right there, inches away from Derek’s big, red lips. And the sight is too bloody gorgeous, it’s too bloody good to be true.

Stiles can no longer form words beside “yes, yes, please” and so he keeps repeating that over and over again as Derek takes Stiles’ dick in his big hands and gives it a few lazy strokes. He looks up at Stiles for one last look of confirmation before licks a stripe from the base to the head and Stiles almost comes right there and then.

He licks once more before he takes the head into his mouth and sucks. Stiles gasps and continues his stream of pleas and moans. When Derek takes more of him into his wet, perfect mouth and then some more and even more until he has all of Stiles in his mouth Stiles’ eyes roll back in his head, he grabs the sheets and clenches them desperately as his knuckles turn white and he arches his back and his mouth opens in a silent moan.

Derek starts moving slowly up and down, his tongue running along the shaft. And Stiles does everything in his power not to come yet and not to thrust into Derek’s mouth. Derek places a hand on each of Stiles’ thighs as if he’s had the very same thought. One of Stiles’ hands finds Derek’s messy hair and grabs it but not to do anything other than just hold the handful of hair in his fist.

Derek moves faster now, bobbing his head up and down and making the most obscene, mesmerizing sounds as he does so.

Stiles is slowly but surely going insane.

It’s too fucking good.

He’s going to come too soon but he can’t help. He can already feel the orgasm roll over him. “Derek,” he moans. “Derek, I’m going to – “

He tries to force Derek away but the other one is older and stronger and he keeps sucking and bobbing and trail his tongue up and down that shaft and when Stiles comes with a desperate shout and his back arches up like a bow Derek looks at him and he swallows.

When Stiles falls back onto the bed he is panting so hard he can barely breathe. Derek sits up and Stiles looks at him. His lips are wet and glistering and he looks hotter than Stiles has ever seen him before.

“Holy shit that was, well, wow, I mean holy _shit_.”

Derek actually laughs at this and then he leans down and kisses Stiles and he can taste himself on Derek’s tongue, the bitter taste of cum fresh and strong in his mouth, but it’s not as unpleasant as it should’ve been.

Stiles groans into his mouth and wraps his arms around his neck. Derek all but collapses onto Stiles body and that is when Stiles notices that Derek is still very hard, his dick practically poking Stiles’ thigh. He grins against Derek’s lips and then he pushes him onto his back while looking him deep into his eyes.

“Stiles,” Derek says and it’s almost a warning but not quite and Stiles isn’t sure what Derek is even scolding him for at a time like this so he just snorts – because it seems like right thing to do – and finally removes Derek’s briefs.

When Stiles sees Derek’s cock he can’t but lick his lip and he gets a broken moan in reply from Derek. Stiles leans over Derek, hovering just above him with one hand next to Derek’s head supporting his weight. 

“Spit,” he instructs.

Derek’s eyes grow wide and he immediately follows orders. He takes Stiles’ free hand, holds it in front of his face and spits into his palm.

“Good,” Stiles praises him.

Derek moans again, his mouth going slack and his fingers practically trembling from where they’re clenching the sheet.

Stiles leans back on his heels, places one hand on Derek’s thigh and also spits into his palm. Then he takes a hold of Derek’s dick and the man gasps. Stiles tries to remind himself that this is not the first time he’s giving Derek a handjob but suddenly New Year’s Eve is a millennium or two away.

He gives it a few testing strokes before he starts stroking is properly. He runs his thump over the slit, he teases, he combines slow strokes with fast and hard ones and he sees Derek fall apart under his touch and it is glorious.

When he suddenly leans down and licks the head with that long, demonic tongue of his Derek gasps and swears and suddenly he’s coming hard and fast. Stiles feels some of it hit his face before he sits back up and milks Derek’s orgasms by stroking the dick until the older sighs heavily and covers his head with his arm.

Stiles can’t but smirk at the sight; Derek is broken but in the best possibly way. And it is because of Stiles, because of what he did, what he’d do again and again if he could get the same reaction or just a fraction of it out of him every time.

He wipes the cum off his face with the back of his hand and then he drops down next to Derek and kisses his sweaty shoulder as he looks at his long lashes that frame those beautiful eyes of his.

Derek turns his head and looks at Stiles and for a while none of them say anything. They just lie there and stare at one another and then Derek kisses Stiles but this time it’s sweet and tender and then he wraps an arm around him and pulls him closer.

“You’re disgusting,” Stiles informs him because he really is; sweaty and covered in cum.

“So are you,” Derek just says and Stiles has to agree with that he suppose. He thinks about all the possibly replies he could give the older man but he’s too damn tired, too damn content, too damn exhausted and happy to care about cockiness at that moment so he just hums and closes his eyes.

\--

When he wakes up almost an hour later it’s because Derek snores. The sound is deep and earnest and Stiles doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry so he just snorts and sits up in the bed.

The first thing he notices is the smell. It’s horrible. It’s like the air in the room is thick of sex. He pulls a face, before he sighs and gets out of bed.

Their clothes are scattered all around the room and it takes longer than it should have to find what belongs to him. When he is once again dressed in tight jeans and a white t-shirt he looks back at Derek.

The snoring has stopped and Derek has woken up and is now looking at Stiles with an expression he can’t read.

And suddenly the fear hits him hard and ruthlessly in the chest and the only thing that goes through Stiles’ head is: he regrets it.

“So,” Stiles says. “We should probably join the others or something. It’s been one very long bathroom break, wouldn’t you say?”

Derek doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t break eye contact, he doesn’t _do_ anything, he just lies there and looks at Stiles and it drives the younger one insane.

“Derek?” he asks and it is possible his voice wavers just the slightest.

“We could also just _not_ join the others and head home instead?” he suggests.

“And do what exactly?” Stile says before he can stop himself. He blushes at the obvious suggestion he didn’t even intend to make but Derek doesn’t look bothered, he just smirks and sits up. Everything about him from his slumped shoulders, to his ruffled hair, to his dark eyes indicates that this is a man who just had sex.

“I could think of a few things,” Derek says carelessly with a shrug. “Watch a movie, play monopoly – “

“Monopoly?” Stiles says surprised. “Do you even know how to play monopoly?”

“I’m sure you could teach me?” Derek says.

“Do you even have monopoly?” Stiles continues.

“We’ll improvise.”

Stiles can’t help but throw his head back and laugh. “Okay, sure, we’ll improvise.” Then he looks at Derek at his heart misses a few beats (or fifteen). “Yeah, let’s head home.”

\--

They have to stop a few times on their way.

Once because Stiles’ hand travels a little too far up (and up and up) on Derek’s thigh and the other male has to pull in and tell Stiles not to mess with him when he’s driving.

And the second time it’s because Derek apparently can’t palm Stiles’ dick through his jeans when he’s driving (who would thought) so he stops the car once more, grabs Stiles by the face, kisses him hard and pushes his hand into Stiles’ jeans. Stiles thrusts into Derek’s firm fist until he comes hard and he bites down on Derek’s neck and holds onto his shoulders desperately.

“I owe you one,” Stiles pants a few seconds later when he’s recovering.

Derek just laughs and starts the engine.

And eventually they do make it back to the apartment.

They first thing they do when they’re safely inside is kiss. This time it’s Stiles who has Derek pinned against the wall as he attacks Derek’s already bruised neck with that ruthless mouth of his. Derek groans loudly and holds onto Stiles hips.

“So.” Stiles’ breath tickles Derek’s sensitive skin. “What about that monopoly?”

Derek laughs – a surprised but earnest laughter – and kisses Stiles hard.

“I’m afraid I don’t have monopoly,” he says in between kisses.

“You said we’d improvise,” Stiles says before he lets his hands trail up under Derek’s shirt, already desperate for more contact (and more and more and more!).

“I have cards,” Derek shrugs as he pushes his hands into Stiles’ jeans and finds his perfect ass.

Stiles gasps against Derek’s lips and says: “There are no cards in monopoly.”

“We’ll make our own rules,” Derek whispers seductively before he connects their lips once more.

“Okay, what does the winner get?” Stiles pants as he starts grinding against Derek.

Derek moans. “I could think of a few things.”

Stiles smirks before he groans. “Oh, I’m sure you could.”

\--

Their improvised game of monopoly does not end well. The apartment floor is covered in cards, most of which there is now written stuff on.

To say they make their own rules would be an understatement. But, in the end, after much arguing and bickering and throwing remotes at one another, they do find a winner.

And Stiles gives Derek a _very_ good blowjob as his reward.


	9. (too much) fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of smut, a bif of fluff and a bit of angst.

“No.”

“But, Derek- “

“No, Stiles!”

“You’re no fun.”

Derek rolls his eyes and grabs the DVD from Stiles’ hands. Stiles whines and drops down on the couch, pouting and crossing his arms like a child. Derek smirks, drops the DVD onto the floor and leans down to kiss Stiles’ forehead.

“What are you,” Stiles mumbles, “my grandmother?”

“Your grandmother is dead,” Derek points out as he kisses Stiles eyelids, his nose and his cheekbones.

“Auch. You asshole.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, you better make the emotional trauma of being reminded that the woman I’ve never met is still dead up to me by giving me a blowjob.”

Stiles smirks, folds his arms around Derek’s neck and forces him down for a forceful kiss. Derek groans into the kiss, lets his tongue swipe into Stiles’ mouth for a few minutes before he pulls away and mumbles against Stiles’ bruised lips: “You’re little shit, you know that, right?”

“You might’ve mentioned it,” Stiles whispers back and his hot breath tickles Derek’s face.

“I ought to mention it more often,” Derek replies before he kisses Stiles again. When they pull apart next Stiles can’t help but chuckle.

“Maybe you should but you still owe me for the trauma you inflicted upon me a few minutes ago, remember?” he says and looks into Derek’s eyes almost innocently.

Something between a groan and a moan escapes Derek’s lips before he gets up, crawls to the end of the couch and opens Stiles jeans.

\--

The ball hits the door with a loud bang and Stiles throws his arms up and roars.

“And he scores!” he shouts.

Derek, standing in front of the door doing a very poor job as goalie, says: “You cheated.”

Stiles stops his cheering immediately and looks at Derek with his eyes wide open and a hand on his chest above his heart.

“What? What? You dishonor me, Derek.”

 “You cheated,” Derek repeats as he grabs the ball and throws it back to Stiles who tames it and stops it with his foot.

“Showing a bit of skin cannot count as cheating, D, have you ever actually watched soccer?”

“I’m more of a football guy,” he says. “There’s not a lot of skin there.”

“The cheerleaders,” Stiles points out.

“And they don’t actually play.”

Stiles smirks and tilts his head playfully to the side. “Am I distracting you?”

Derek actually blushes slightly. “You’re seducing me,” he concludes.

“I’m trying,” Stiles agrees shamelessly. He steps over the ball and walks towards Derek slowly. “Is it working?”

Derek actually growls and suddenly Stiles is pinned against the wall and he can’t help but laugh. A laugh Derek very quickly shuts up with those amazing lips of his and Stiles is _not_ complaining.

\--

They’re watching some random movie about Sharks and Stiles’ head is resting heavily on Derek’s right shoulder. His eyes are growing more and more tired by the minute, his bones are heavy and Derek’s shoulder is too freaking comfortable.

“You’re going to drool on my shirts,” Derek whispers but he doesn’t sound annoyed, he just sounds amused.

The corner of Stiles’ mouth twists but he’s already half-sleep so he can’t even muster a proper reply nor does Derek seem to expect one.

When he finally closes his eyes and doesn’t open them again he fairly quickly falls asleep.

He awakes a few hours later when Derek very carefully moves his head to rest against the armrest. Derek is leaning over him with a blanket in his hand that he places gently on top of Stiles before the younger man has time to really process it. He vaguely wants to protest and say that either he isn’t really tired (which he totally is) or he wants to sleep in Derek’s bed (with Derek which wouldn’t be the first time) but he lets his urgent need for rest win and he falls asleep. The last thing he feels before he drifts off into the darkness is Derek’s tender kiss on his nose. He smiles and then he’s fast asleep.

\--

“We’re out of milk,” Stiles tells Derek who’s sitting in the living room playing x-box.

“Aha,” is all he gets as an answer.

Stiles rolls his eyes and continues to further examine the refrigerator. He picks up box, opens it, realizes it is very empty and puts in on the counter next to three other empty boxes. He takes row for row and when he closes the refrigerator he sighs heavily and folds his arms across his chest irritated.

“We’re out of everything.”

“Aha.”

Still grunts but decides to let Derek finish whatever it is he’s doing. He cleans every empty box and puts them away. Then he grabs the banana – the only piece of eatable thing they have left –and eats if for breakfast. He walks back into the living room – which is approximately three feet away from the kitchen – and sits down on the couch right next to Derek. He finishes the banana and then he places his head on Derek’s shoulder and the other one doesn’t even comment it.

It’s Wednesday. They have five and a half day left in each other’s company. Stiles is watching Derek shamelessly because he can. Because no one – not even Derek – will tell him to back off. He still can’t believe that this is actually happening, that he’s allowed to be so bluntly attracted to his step-brother and no one interferes, least of all Derek himself. And he knows that it won’t last forever, at one point he’ll have to go home again, and this little bubble they’ve been living in will burst and he can’t even imagine what that will do to them but until then he’ll enjoy being able to kiss and touch Derek, hunger for him. He’ll enjoy Derek calling in sick for the third time, faking stomach flu, so he can stay indoors with Stiles. They haven’t left the apartment for far too long and they have nothing to eat and they order pizza every night because they can’t do anything else really and they should be driving each other insane at this point but they’re not.

Stiles begins to kiss Derek shoulder. It’s gentle, almost careful, at first. His lips barely even touch the fabric of his white t-shirt. Derek still doesn’t say anything, just continue to play x-box. And Stiles places one hand on his back, right between his shoulder blades, and begins to draw patterns on his skin with the tip of his fingers. In the meantime his kisses slowly but steadily grow stronger and more demanding as he moves from Derek’s shoulder and towards his neck.

“Stiles,” Derek hisses.

Stiles just hums and ignores the obvious warming in Derek’s tone. This is too much fun, he concludes as he bites down on Derek’s shoulder and gets a loud hiss of pain and pleasure in return.

He is getting addicted to the taste of Derek. From his lips, his tongue, his skin, his dick, his asshole – everything is a thing of wonder to Stiles and he craves it, wants more and more and more.

Derek desperately tries to continue on as if Stiles is not distracting him with his skillful mouth. It works for about as long as Stiles is just drawing patterns on his back and bruising his skin but then Stiles hands continues downwards and his mouth place kisses on his jaw and up towards his ear and the older male starts breathing more desperately and Stiles smirks.

It really is too much fun.

 One hand is cupping Derek’s cock through his jeans while the other has reached his lower back. Now Derek can’t help gasp and it doesn’t help him much when Stiles licks his earlobe before taking it into his mouth to suck on it gentle before pulling back.

He stands up from the couch, turns around and is about to leave when he suddenly hears Derek say: “Where the fuck are you going?” and his voice is very rough and hoarse.

Stiles smirks before he turns around and gives Derek his most innocent look. “I thought you were busy,” he says and shrugs.

Derek rolls his eyes, growls – hot damn – and before Stiles has time to comprehend much of anything he’s once again pinned against a wall with Derek’s hand rooming all over his body, his mouth heavy and wet on Stiles’.

Stiles can’t help but chuckle as he wraps one leg strongly around Derek’s waist. “Guess not,” he whispers into the kiss.

“Yeah, guess not,” Derek returns, “you little devil.”

“I have no idea what you’re implying – “

His voice is cut off when Derek kisses it again.

Derek’s hands find Stiles zipper and he quickly pulls down Stiles’ jeans and boxers.

“Eager,” Stiles laughs breathlessly and he can’t help but gasp when Derek takes his hard cock in his hands and strokes it roughly.

“Very,” Derek replies.

Stiles forces Derek to let go when he pulls his shirt off and then his own. He also pulls down his jeans and boxers and before long they are both naked. Sometimes Stiles wonders why they even bother to get dressed in the morning.

Derek is pressing Stiles against the wall with all of his weight and his hand is stroking his dick agonizingly slow as he kisses Stiles’ neck and shoulders.

All that escapes Stiles are “please” and “fuck yes” and Derek hums against his skin and the feel of it sends shivers down Stiles spine.

Stiles’ own hands can’t seem to figure out if they should be in Derek’s amazing hair, his broad shoulder or working on his dick so they’re a bit of everywhere and it seems to be driving Derek insane that Stiles can’t make up his mind. He should know at this point, really.

Stiles is moaning and gasping into the kiss, his eyes have fluttered close and his fingers are clenched in Derek’s hair.

Suddenly Derek pulls away from the neck, stops stroking but doesn’t let go and looks into Stiles’ brown eyes.

“We should take this elsewhere,” he says.

Stiles opens his mouth to ask what the fuck he’s talking about when he continues: “Like the bed.”

Stiles is unable to close his now open mouth for a few long seconds and then he finally manages to close it as well as nod furiously.

For all they’ve done they’ve never moved it into the bedroom. Somehow they’ve never made it that far. The thought of lying on his back in Derek’s bed with this perfect, handsome human on top of him makes Stiles’ head foggy with anticipation.

Derek picks him up like it’s no big deal and Stiles wraps the other leg around him as well and as they move into the bedroom carefully Stiles leans down and kiss Derek desperately.

\--

Derek opens the bedroom drawer and finds what he’s looking for. Stiles heart is beating so fast it’s hard for him to breathe but that is suddenly okay.

When Derek sits back up in the bed where he’s positioned between Stiles wide open legs he has a bottle of lube in his hand. Stiles gulps when Derek opens it and spreads some of it on three of his fingers.

They’ve done this before. Stiles has fingered Derek, Derek has fingered Stiles (multiply times) and at this point they’ve done just about everything. Expect actually have sex. They have yet to cross that barrier.

And now here they are, in the bedroom, and Derek is there applying lube and Stiles wants to scream for more, more, _more_.

Derek looks into his eyes and nods and Stiles returns the nod and licks his lip before biting down on it hard. Derek circles Stiles asshole with one finger and the younger one gasps and grabs the sheets with both hands. When he actually pushes the finger in Stiles moans and his mouth falls open.

Derek is gentle and yet teasing. He knows what Stiles likes and what he doesn’t, he knows how to do this to make Stiles practically scream, he knows how to find Stiles’ prostate and he knows when enough is enough and he can apply another finger and after some time yet another finger until he is thrusting into Stiles hard and the younger male is meeting every thrust desperately, lifting his ass from the bed for more.

“Please,” he gasps and covers his face with his arm. “Please, Derek.”

“You sure you want to do this?” Derek suddenly asks without stopping his movements. When he finds Stiles prostate Stile’s hips buck and he lets out a high “ _fuck_ ” that makes it hard for Derek to focus on anything else.

“Yes, fucking dammit, I’m sure.”

“Stiles, I’m serious, this is – “

“Fuck, Derek, I’m telling you right now that I want this and that means I fucking want this so you better fucking but a condom on your dick and get inside of mere before I come from just your fingers, you twat.”

Before Stiles has time to even finish his sentence the fingers are gone and he can’t help but feel empty at the sudden loss of contact until he feels something else against his entrance.

He doesn’t take his arm away, he doesn’t looks up at Derek, but he nods, bites down on his lip and tries to relax and prepare himself.

Derek is so, so gentle and careful and he acts like they have all the time in the world to do this the right way and only the right way. He makes sure Stiles is comfortable before he dares to move, he asks him if he needs him to slow down and Stiles replies with a desperate, high “no, fuck, don’t do that” and after a while he finally lets go and he pounds into Stiles’ ass.

His thrusts are hard and deep. They hit Stiles’ prostate every time and the boy keens, wraps his legs around him, grabs him by the neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

Suddenly Derek moves them so Stiles is the one on top, moving up and down while Derek’s hands are on his hips.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek moans out and throws his head back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Stiles gasps as he quickens his movements.

Derek’s hands will probably leave bruises on Stiles’ hips but he couldn’t care less. He wants evidence, he wants all the evidence he can get, that this really happened – is happening in this very moment.

Stiles leans back, rests his hands on Derek’s thighs and continues to move up and down. Derek starts to thrust his hips up to meet Stiles’ movements.

When Stiles comes he throws himself forward until he’s practically lying on top on Derek’s chest. When Derek comes he kisses Stiles like he can get enough of his sweet taste.

And afterwards, they’re both too tired to move and they lie in bed, holding on to one another with the thick smell of sex in the small room and touches lingering on skin.

\--

“Thank you,” Stiles says and hands the delivery guy his money. He takes the pizza from the boy and closes the door. “Dinner!” he shouts as he returns to the living room with their usual order.

Derek comes out from the bathroom with only a towel around his waist and water dripping down his face and his amazing chest. Stiles groans and shoots Derek an irritated look.

“Please put on some clothes, I’m trying to eat,” he snaps.

“What,” Derek says with that small smile playing in the corner of his mouth, “am I distracting you?”

“Well, let me asks you this,” Stiles says and drops down on the couch. “Let’s say – close your eyes – that it was me – close them, dammit – that was walking out of the bathroom – “

“Stiles – “

“ – and I was only wearing a towel, yeah, and there was water trailing down my skin, okay? And suddenly my towel fell down and I would be standing there, completely naked, wet and probably horny because let’s be honest when am I not, would you say you’d be a little distracted?”

Stiles looks at Derek and he looks like he’s in pain. The sight is too amazing. He still can’t believe that Derek wants him, of all people. Wants ‘skinny, defenseless, Stiles’. Wants Stiles, the ‘immature, annoying, obnoxious brat’.

Derek opens his eyes and he is glaring at Stiles who smiles innocently and grabs a piece of pizza. “Would you?”

“I don’t like you,” Derek announces.

Stiles laughs. “I would beg to differ.”

“Well, would you now?”

“I would.”

“And why would you do that?”

Derek sits down and grabs a piece of pizza as well.

“Well, first of you give me blowjobs whenever I ask for one, that’s something.”

Derek rolls his eyes.

“Also,” Stiles continues, “you let me sleep in your bed, you pay for my pizza, sometimes you give me a massage after sex because I’ve ridden you so good we’re both sore – “

“Stop,” Derek groans.

Stiles doesn’t look at him but just asks: “Am I distracting you?”

“You have to stop doing that.”

“Or else what?”

“I might just forget all about the pizza I just bought and do other activities.”

“Such as?”

Derek’s mouth in on Stiles’ neck before he has to really comprehend anything. “I could let you fuck me, for once,” he suddenly whispers.

Stiles gasps and drops the pizza. He doesn’t dare move.

“Would you want that?” Derek continues in that low, raspy voice of his as his fingers begin to trail over Stiles thigh and up to his cock. “Yeah?” he says as he opens the jeans and starts palming the dick through his boxers.

Stiles moans and throws his head back. “Please,” he begs.

“Please what?” Derek asks and he continues to palm the dick.

“Please anything. Your dick in me, my dick in you, I don’t give a fuck, just give me something.”

Derek’s voice is even more breathless than Stiles’ as he replies: “That can definitely be arranged – “

A loud knock on the door cuts him off and they both freeze on the couch.

A long, suffering second goes by followed a few more and there’s another loud knock. And it sound demanding, the kind of knock that just won’t be ignored.

And suddenly Derek is standing up and Stiles still hasn’t moved.

“Go get the door,” Derek order, “and I’ll go in and get some clothes on.”

Stiles barely even manages a nod. He doesn’t move until Derek is in his bedroom and there’s several more knocks.

He looks down and notices his very obvious boner. He tries to will it away but it doesn’t really work. Well, nothing to do about. Hopefully whoever is there won’t notice it.

He gets up, there’s more knocking, he hears Derek knock something over in the bedroom, Stiles rolls his eyes and then he opens the door.

The girl on the other side looks surprised to see him to say the least. The wide smile on the face falters a little before she’s able to collect herself. She looks at Stiles in his worn out jeans and his lose t-shirt and the sight seems to puzzle her.

“Who are you?” she asks.

Stiles furrows his eyebrows and returns her confused glare.

She has brown, wavy hair, dark eyes, pale skin and a sharp look on her face. She’s wearing a leather jacket – that must be killing her slowly because it’s fucking hot outside – a skirt and in her hand she carries a suitcase, like she’s just gotten off an airplane.

“Stiles,” Stiles says.

“Oh,” she says and then she grins brightly. “The step-brother.”

Before Stiles has time to react she’s pushed past him and is standing in the apartment. He slowly closes the door. The girl is looking around, obviously looking for something – or someone.

“Where’s Derek?” she asks and turns to Stiles.

“Wait, who are you?” he asks her.

“Well,” she says and exchanges her hand for Stiles to take. “I’m Jennifer, Derek’s girlfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this crappy ending, I'll try to update soon!


	10. When it makes no difference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very sorry! I know i promised to update soon and I didn't! I'm an asshole. I will update soon this time, I promise!! Hopefully wednesday.

He’s frozen where he stands in the apartment. It’s like his heart has stopped beating, like blood is no longer running through his veins, like he’s not even breathing anymore. He couldn’t explain it if everyone ever asked but it’s as if, with those few words, this Jennifer girl has managed to make his entire world crumble to the ground, turned to dust and ashes, too fucking fragile, so easily tugged away by the nearby wind. So easily forgotten – so easily gone.

He hasn’t taken her hand and he doesn’t plan on doing so anytime soon. He is staring at her, she’s staring at him, they both hear Derek knock something over in the bedroom – again – and her bemused look, which has turned into a frown, is transformed into a bright grin as she shouts “DEREK!” loud enough to get complains from the neighbors (and that is saying a lot considering the heavy amount of indoors football Derek and Stiles’ days have been sporting lately and no, fuck, he isn’t going to think about that now).

Stiles is still staring at Jennifer when the door to the bedroom is suddenly opened and Derek steps out. To his credit he looks about as confused as Jennifer did when she first noticed Stiles. Stiles reckons he doesn’t look like anything, his face is probably blank and freed from any emotions because he doesn’t… he doesn’t feel anything. And yet he feels so much – it’s practically, and silently, choking him to death.

“Derek, hey,” Jennifer laughs and then she’s crossing the distance and throwing her arms around him. Derek still looks puzzled but he wraps his arms around her and returns the hug. But he doesn’t look at her, he looks at Stiles, and even through his odd numbness Stiles is able to register the look of desperation and regret on Derek’s face. It just isn’t enough – it’s not even close to enough.

Slowly, but surely, something like anger or hurt or both starts going through his body, warming it up, making skin sting and his bones ache.

He wants to scream.

They pull apart and Derek is still looking at Stiles as if there’s so many things he wants to explain but can’t.

“God, I missed you!” Jennifer says and leans up to kiss him.

Stiles’ thinks he might be sick.

Derek turns his head to the side subtly so she ends up kissing his cheek.

It does nothing to calm the boiling rage inside of Stiles.

Jennifer either doesn’t notice or pretends not to notice and she’s still laughing and smiling and she even wraps an arm around Derek and leans against him.

“When did you come back?” Derek says. His voice if… off.

“Just now, couldn’t wait to see you.”

Stiles is seriously going to be sick.

“I missed you so, so much,” she says again. Then she looks at Stiles. “Oh, and I met your brother.”

“ _Step_ brother,” Stiles hears himself hiss, and there’s so much venom in that one, little word that it startles even himself.

“Yeah,” Jennifer says confused, “stepbrother.”

“Stiles, this is, eh, Jennifer.”

“So she told me,” Stiles snaps. His voice is cold but only because he needs to hide all the tears in it. “Your girlfriend.”

“Stiles – “

“Yes,” Jennifer interrupts. “I can’t believe I haven’t met your lovely family before, D.”

Stiles actual laughs. A loud, sarcastic, slightly insane sound bursts from his lip and he throws his head back but when he looks at Jennifer and Derek again his eyes are far from amused; they’re burning at the same time as they’re freezing. “No, me neither,” he says, his voice cutting through bones.

It’s only a matter of time before something inside of him will burst and he’ll break down. He doesn’t want to be here, of all places, when that happens.

“Stiles, can I possibly talk to you alone for a minute – “

“Oh, but why would you do that, Derek?” Stiles says. “I’m sure you can tell you girlfriend everything, right Derek? I mean, why wouldn’t you be able to, Derek? So just tell me whatever it is you feel like you need to say. Derek.”

Derek also looks like he’s about to cry and the sight is fucking horrible. Stiles can’t decide if he wants Derek to never cry again or if he wants to turn him into a bawling mess – but this look, this in-between state, is just fucking horrible to witness.

“Am I interrupting something?” Jennifer – who’s finally caught on – asks.

“No,” Stiles snaps.

“Yes,” Derek says carefully.

Their eyes meet. Derek pleads, Stiles glares. No one says anything.

“Well, um, I’ll just wait in our bedroom then,” Jennifer says.

 _Our_ bedroom.

She lives here.

This is their apartment.

And Derek fucked him here.

In _their_ apartment.

Stiles can’t do this anymore: “No,” he says, and his voice isn’t so much angry, as just desperate and sad now, “I’ll go.”

“Stiles,” Derek begs behind him.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Stiles snaps with his back turned to him. The tears sting his eyes and make his cheeks wet as they trail down them. “Just fucking don’t, Derek, you utter piece of – “ His voice breaks and he inhales sharply. Before he can think too much about it he grabs his shoes, his car-keys and is out the door with Derek’s desperate “Stiles” following him but he can’t give two flying fucks about his cheating, lying, piece of shit stepbrother in that moment.

\--

It’s later than he thought it was. It’s almost midnight, the world is darker, the stars are shining, the moon is glimmering and the tears roll down his cheek. He doesn’t try to stop them. First of all because he can’t. Second of all because he doesn’t want to. He deserves to cry, he thinks. He deserves to just fucking –

He chokes and bites down on his lower lip hard to keep the terrifying sobs inside. He turns up the radio, listens to some cheesy lovesong as he tries to get the image of Jennifer next to Derek out of his mind.

His phone rings, loud and clear and obnoxious, and he ignores it as he continues straight ahead. It stops ringing but only for a few seconds and then it continues its quest with renewed energy.

He wonders, as he drives through the dark night listening to Kelly Clarkson, why he was so stupid as to let this happen? There is no excuse for this – he should’ve never kissed Derek, he should’ve never done anything with him. He should have repeated “stepbrother, stepbrother, stepbrother” over and over in his head until it turned into a silent prayer on his full lips. Getting involved like this was a mistake, knowing full-well from the start that it had to end. But, fuck, he never imagined it would be like this. He never imagined it would be so – so heartbreaking. He hadn’t known he should feel so betrayed and used. So fucking _dirty_.

He hates Derek. He hates him. He hates him with every fiber of his body but –

He loves him. He’s in love with him. He wants Derek, he wants no one else.

He can’t hold back the sob and the tears begin to stream faster. His vision is blurring, he is sobbing and choking and his fingers are trembling so bad it’s hard to drive, but he doesn’t dare to pull over. Not yet, not when he still feels so raw and –

“Fuck!” he curses and hits the steering wheel hard. He can hardly see the road and he concentrates on driving straight forward. When a car from somewhere he can’t see honks he gasps in surprise and hits the break suddenly. The honking continues and he vaguely notices the car hurries by.

He sits in the car gasping and trying to breathe while he still sobs and cries. He starts the car and pulls over so he’s at least not blocking the way.

He turns off the radio and in the intense silence that follows he just sits there, staring at the great nothing ahead of him. And then he lets go, leans forward, rests his arms on the steering wheel and hides his face in the arms as he just gives up and cries because the world is a fucking unfair place.

Fucking stupid Derek Hale with his stupid fucking smile and silent movements and loud eyes and eye-rolls and light touches and snorting laughter.

Fucking stupid Derek Hale with his tender kisses and sweet words.

Fucking stupid Derek Hale for making Stiles fall for him.

Fucking stupid Derek Hale.

He sighs and throws his head back, inhaling sharply and wiping the tears from his cheek furiously.

This is when there is a loud knock on his window and he practically flies to the side. He manages to calm himself just enough that he can look out of the window.

Derek is looking at him with a bewildered, terrified look on his face.

Stiles feels the sadness and rage mix inside of him and he can’t decide if he should just drive away then and there and not give a fuck about Derek. But then again where will he go? He has no place to go; so he opens the door because he _has_ to not because he wants to.

 

“Stiles,” Derek exhales loudly. “I’ve been looking – “

“Well, here I am,” he says in a sharp tone of voice. He knows Derek can probably see that his eyes are red and his nose is running, the sign of crying are so obvious, but he finds he doesn’t give a shit anymore.

Let him see the evidence of what he’s reduced Stiles to.

“What do you want?” Stiles continues quickly.

“We need to talk – “

“A bit too late – “

“No, listen,” Derek interrupts and he sounds desperate. “We need to talk about _everything_.”

Stiles feels his heart drop into his stomach. Their eyes meet and neither says anything for a while and then Derek walks around the car, opens the door and slides into the passenger seat. Stiles closes the other door and the silence following is _loud_.

“Look,” Derek begins without looking at Stiles, “I’m not dating Jennifer.”

Stiles turns his head towards Derek so fast it’s possible he breaks a few bones in the process. “What?”

Derek closes his eyes tiredly before he continues: “It’s all one huge… misunderstanding.”

Stiles inhales sharply and hates himself for it. “Explain.”

Derek’s hands twist in his lap and he looks straight ahead and not at Stiles. “We used to date. But then we had a row just before she left to England, a huge one, and I just assumed that… We weren’t dating. It was a pretty serious fight, we both said some… serious stuff.”

Stiles stares at him, his throat is tight and his fingers shake, and he just stares at Derek. “New Year’s Eve,” he hears himself saying and suddenly he’s so afraid, “were you together then?”

“No!” Derek practically shouts, still not looking at Stiles. “She left almost nine months ago. She wasn’t supposed to come home before September! I thought we’d broken up, I really did, you would too if you’d heard the things we said to each other but she – well, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” he mumbles.

The confession is followed by another loud silence and Stiles doesn’t know how to break it.

Slowly Derek turns his head to look at Stiles. His eyes are so – so frightened. “I’m an asshole,” he says, “I know that, okay? I know what a huge idiot I’ve been ever since you arrived. I’m sorry.”

“It’s – “ Stiles says but is cut off by Derek.

“No,” he interrupts, “I need to say this now or I never will.”

Stiles swallows hard and nods and Derek inhales, closes his for a brief second and then he continues: “That day at the party, at Paige’s sister, when I left you, I never explained to you _why_. And you deserve that. And I am truly sorry.”

Stiles nods but he can’t say anything so he hopes to convey ‘go on’ with just his eyes.

He must because Derek does: “The thing is I was so angry. At you, at me, at those girls for saying that horrible stuff about us without even knowing they were doing so! I was just so pissed at the world and I wanted to – “ He sighs. “I was just so angry about what we’d done New Year’s Eve. I was so angry that I’d let myself kiss you. And I know you’ll think this is stupid but… I’m the oldest. And to you that probably doesn’t matter but I am the oldest! I’m supposed to take care of you, I’m supposed to be your older brother and here I am wanting to… wanting to kiss you all the fucking time and I don’t know how to deal with that! And so I turn into an asshole because I think – I thought – “ He stops for a second as if to collect himself. At this point Stiles isn’t even breathing. “I wasn’t thinking, that’s the problem. I never do. I just let my emotions get the best of me and I behave like an asshole because I’m so afraid. And nothing I can say or do will ever make that okay, Stiles, I know that, okay, but just…” He looks down. “I never meant for you to get hurt. I never wanted to leave you, I never wanted to – And then the next day when you were just gone and I realized just what I’d done I just. Fuck, Stiles, I was so afraid.”

Stiles looks at Derek and there are actual tears in the corner of his eyes and he doesn’t know what to do or say or how to even breathe any more.

“That day,” Derek whispers, “when you fell though the ice,” he swallows hard, “it was horrible, okay? It was fucking horrible. And even now I can still see it happening if I close my eyes, I can. I was so close to just jumping in after you.” He gives a dark laugh. “They had to hold me back. I was screaming you name over and over again because I thought you were – “ His voice breaks and the tears fall from his eyes. “Fuck, Stiles, we thought you were dead.”

Stiles opens his mouth slowly, looks at Derek and sees all that pain and despair in his eyes and he doesn’t know what to do about that. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers back.

“No,” Derek says and wipes away the tears, “It wasn’t your fault. And it’s no excuse for how I behaved that day with Heather but the truth is I was just so afraid when I woke up and you weren’t there because I knew it was my fault. It’s always my fault. And… I was an asshole because I didn’t want to see you with her, a beautiful girl who’s obviously interested in you. I hated that. Stiles, I hated it. I still do. And I have no right to hate it. That the whole problem! I have no _right_ to hate it because I’m your brother and I _still do_! I hate seeing you with other girls or boys or what else I just hate it. And I’m sorry for being an asshole, I’m sorry for letting my emotions get the best of me, I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through these last days. But most of all I’m sorry I can’t be the older brother you deserve.”

Stiles hasn’t even noticed he’s crying until Derek leans forward and with his thumb gently wipes one of them away. Stiles inhales sharply and puts his hand on top of Derek’s and leans into the touch.

“Stiles…” Derek whispers.

“No,” Stiles says and straightens his back. “It’s my turn to say something now.”

Derek furrows his eyebrows and looks like he wants to protest. He bites down on his lower lip before he finally nods and takes his hand away and places it in his lap.

Stiles runs his tongue over his dry lips, swallows hard, clenches his fists and begins: “I’m in love with you.”

After that he doesn’t say anything for a heartbeat or two, letting the words really sink in so Derek knows their true meaning, so Derek understands what he’s saying.

“And,” he finally continues when Derek’s eyes are suddenly wide open, “I shouldn’t be but I am. I’m in love with you, Derek Hale, and you are not my brother, we are not related, our parents are married but that’s not the same thing. And believe me, I’m not the first stepsibling to fall in love with another stepsibling nor will I be the last. And – I forgive you.”

“Stiles,” Derek whispers brokenly.

“No, wait,” Stiles says. “Listen to me, I forgive you, okay? You are an asshole, you can be a complete dick, you can be so thick, so stupid sometimes, and at times I don’t know what goes through that head of yours because you can be so – so utterly – I don’t even know how to explain it.”

Derek is smiling gently but his eyes are still wide open.

“But I still love you. I’m in love with you. And at this point I don’t think there’s much to do about it, to be honest.” He shrugs indifferently. “Heather, she’s a gorgeous girl, she’s easy to talk to, she’s beautiful, she likes me and yet I feel nothing. And then I look at you when you eat a slice of pizza and it’s not sexy or charming or anything and yet I just want you. And not always just in a sexual way although, let’s be honest, I want that too but sometimes it’s just that I want to be next to you. It’s that simple. I’m in love with you and I’m sorry about that because if I was a good human being I wouldn’t have said anything, I wouldn’t have burdened you with this knowledge, and yet here I am,” he laughs, “just saying everything.”

Derek is silent. He is staring at Stiles and he’s silent and Stiles kind of wants to tell him to do something or say something but he doesn’t.

“Derek,” Stiles whispers after what feels like an eternity. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Derek whispers and takes his hand. “Don’t be sorry.”

They look into each other’s eyes, Derek intertwines their fingers and Stiles doesn’t know what any of this means he just knows he doesn’t want to ever move.

“Stiles, “Derek suddenly says, “I’m in love with you too.”

Stiles’ heat stops beating then.

“And it doesn’t make a difference.”

“What?” Stiles gasps. “What do you – “

“Think about it,” Derek says and he sounds heartbroken. “It can’t work.”

“Is it because of our family?” Stiles says. “Because they’ll understand – “

“Maybe,” Derek shrugs although he doesn’t look convinced, “but that doesn’t change anything.”

Stiles can feel tears stream down his face again and when he speaks next his voice is broken, “what – “

“If we were to do this,” Derek says and leans forward, putting on hand gently on Stiles’ face, “and we were to break up then what? Think about it, Stiles. Think about what it’d do to them.”

“We’ll make sure not to fight then.” He knows it’s stupid but he has to try.

“It’s us, Stiles, we fight all the time.”

“But then we won’t break up – “

“Stiles,” Derek sighs, “you can’t know that for sure.”

“I can,” Stiles whispers and closes his eyes as the tears continue to stream.

“Think about what we’d ask of them,” Derek explains. “If we had a huge argument and we couldn’t even stand to look at each other. We’d force them to pick a side, Stiles, and I could never do that.”

“Then we won’t! We’d be grownups about it!”

Derek laughs and leans his forehead against Stiles’. “I wish it was that simple,” he mumbles.

“What if it is?” Stiles begs. He opens his eyes and look into Derek’s eyes.

“Do you really want to risk it?” Derek asks.

And Stiles knows, in that moment, if he were to say ‘yes’ then Derek would say ‘okay’ and they’d try to make it work. But he can’t do that because Derek is right; they can potentially ruin an entire family because of their own selfish reasons. It wouldn’t just be their own relationship, it’s be so much else, it would something bigger and stronger and more important than them they’d ruin. And Stiles can’t live with himself if he allows that to happen.

“No,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Derek whispers back.

“Tell me it’s the right thing to do.”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

“Then why do I feel like shit?” Stiles cries.

Derek wraps his arms around him and Stiles buries his face against his neck. He doesn’t say anything, he just lets Stiles cry silently against his skin because that is all he can do – that is all they have left.

\--

They drive home in separate cars. They enter the apartment at the same time. Derek gives Stiles a lingering goodnight-kiss and Stiles has the feeling it’s the last one in a long, long time.

Maybe even forever.

But when he falls asleep that night he doesn’t really feel sad or angry anymore.

He just feels empty, knowing that Derek loves him too and it makes no difference in this world.


	11. A vacation from reality and a fucking great family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. It's not wednesday and I promised to update wednesday and I'm sorry please don't hate me  
> 2\. to make up for the fact that it's not wednesday the chapter is the longest yet (5000 words just saying)  
> 3\. this is it guys, this is the last chapter! PLEASE READ THE END NOTES BEFORE YOU KILL ME!

He opens his eyes suddenly when someone shakes his shoulder gentle. It’s still dark, he notices, it’s still in the middle of the night. And yet Derek is right there, looking at him waking him up.

“Whatya want?” Stiles slurs.  

“I want to show you something,” Derek whispers. “Come on.”

Stiles groans loudly. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” Derek shrugs and enters the kitchen.

Stiles looks at him and he can’t figure out what’s going on. The last few days they’ve hardly spoken to one another and when they do they are both so fucking polite Stiles can hardly stand it. The day after Jennifer had shown up Derek had finally gone to work again and Stiles had spent the day in the city, buying clothes and books. The day after – yesterday – Stiles had met up with Heather to explain to the girl that he thought she was amazing but he simply wasn’t interested in her in that way. And she’d simply smiled.

“I know,” she’d said,” you’re in love with someone else, are you not?”

Stiles had just nodded. Neither of them had said his name but Stiles was certain Heather knew exactly who Stiles was in love with. And she just accepted it. She smiled, bought him a coffee, asked him about his plans for the future, went with him to buy some food and then they hugged and promised to keep in contact and not once did she frown or looked disgusted by the fact that Stiles was – is – in love with his older step brother.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asks when Derek grabs something from the fridge and throws it into a bag.

“Come on, Stiles.” Derek throws him a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

“Where – “ He cuts himself off. It is useless to try and get anything out of Derek. He can either refuse to go anywhere in the middle of the night or he can say ‘screw this’ and follow him. In the end he chooses the last option, puts on some clothes and follows Derek to the door where the older male takes his car keys before he leads Stiles out.

The parking lot looks different in the dark. Stiles has not noticed this those other few times he’s been here at night but it’s actually kind of scary at night. He shudders involuntarily and Derek puts an arm around his shoulders.

Stiles open his mouth as if to protest over the sudden skin contact but then thinks better of it, shakes his head, and lets Derek lead him to the car. Stiles gets in, rest his head against the window and promptly falls back asleep.

\--

He blinks his eye open and for a second he has no idea where he is. Then he remembers Derek waking him up in the middle of the night and he groans and rubs a hand over his eyes.

“Where are we?” he questions.

“You’ll see,” Derek only says before he turns up the radio.

“Are you kidnapping me?” Stiles asks, still only half-awake.

“Yes,” Derek says bluntly.

Stiles stares at him but he can’t for the life of him figure out what’s going on. He trust Derek, however, probably with his life, so he just snorts, closes his eyes and lets the boy take him wherever it is he feels the need to take him.

\--

“You can’t be serious,” Derek growls.

“No, Derek, his name is _Severus_ , Sirius is the one who – “

“I will rip your throat out with me teeth, Stiles, I swear to god.”

Stiles smirks and eyes his stepbrother out of the corner of his eyes. “Anyhow, I’m deadly serious.”

Derek rolls his eyes and turns left. Stiles still has no idea where they’re headed but he doesn’t give two shits.

“Named after Severus? Named after Severus? I mean – come on!”

“What do you have against Severus Snape?” Derek asks amused.

“What do I have against Severus Snape? Oh, don’t get me started. First of all, he’s totally creepy. That whole thing about being in love with Lily? I mean, come _on_. People who say that he protects Harry because he loves him are idiots, Derek, idiots.”

“They are not,” Derek argues. “He does love Harry in his own way – “

“He does not!” Stiles shrieks. “He hates the kid, he’s an abuse asshole – “

“You cannot be serious, Stiles, he loves Harry, why else would he protect him?”

Stiles huffs and takes a deep breath as if to get ready to argue again when Derek suddenly stops at a gas station.

“I’m getting you coffee,” Derek informs him and throws him his credit card.

Stiles grabs it. “Oh my god I love you. I love you!”

Derek looks at him then and suddenly Stiles is afraid he’s crossed some sort of a line. He’s not sure where Derek and him stand these days, after the confession they haven’t talked about it, he isn’t sure he’s allowed to say stuff like ‘I love you’ to the boy anymore.

But Derek just smiles and it’s a heartwarming freaking smile, the kind of smile that takes Stiles’ fucking breath away. He can feel his heart speed up before it settles into its normal speed again and he can return the smile and god he hopes it shows the same amount of love that Derek’s does even if he isn’t entirely sure what’s going on.

“Buy the coffee,” Derek says, “I’ll use the bathroom.”

Fifteen minutes later they’re back in the car.

“There were so many better options,” Stiles says. “He could’ve split the names of his first child and called one James and the other Sirius.”

Derek is no longer answering, he just allows Stiles to continue his rant while he hums or rolls his eyes every now again when he agrees or disagrees. And somehow another hour goes by.

They drive through an impressive city and continue for another thirty minutes before Derek suddenly takes a sharp turn to the left and then another one and suddenly they are driving towards a massive, white building with lots of glass.

They drive towards a gate that opens so they can drive up to a guy who stands outside of the door to the massive, white building.

“Where are we?” Stiles asks but Derek still doesn’t answers and the two of them both get out of the car.

The guy smiles when he sees them and asks: “Should I take your car, sir?”

“Yes,” Derek replies and gives him the keys.

“Thank you, sir.”

“And bring our bags up,” Derek says.

“What apartment, sir?”

“Hale.”

“Yes, sir,” the guy answers before he gets into the car and drives away. Stiles eyes Derek suspiciously but the other one doesn’t say anything else and just gentle places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and guides him to the door where an elderly man opens the door for them and even gives a ridicules little bow with his head like Derek is freaking royalty or something.

“Are they for real?” Stiles asks in a whisper.

Derek smirks and continues to guide him through the hall which consisting of lots and lots of what Stiles guesses is marble though he really wouldn’t know. It looks expensive.

There’s no one in the hall to greet them but there is a girl in the elevator who asks them what apartment and as soon as Derek says “Hale” she nods and presses the number 6 and up they go.

At this point Stiles has decided to quit asking any more questions. The ride up is short and silent and when the doors open they step right into an apartment.

The first thing Stiles sees is the massive wall of glass right in front of him that gives him an impressive view of the large buildings outside and even further out there’s what might be the ocean but he isn’t sure.

Behind him the girl is asking Derek if needs anything and he answers “no, we’re good” before she disappears downstairs again.

Stiles, who is standing in the middle of what he guesses is some sort of living room, turns around slowly and looks at Derek who’s still standing in front of the long gone elevator.

“What is this?” he asks and this time he will demand an answer.

“Peter’s apartment,” he shrugs.

Stiles raises both his eyebrows. “I didn’t know he had an apartment like this.”

“He has tons of apartments like this.”

“He’s too bloody rich.”

“Indeed.”

“Well,” Stiles says, “what are we doing here? Not that I don’t like it, I mean, it’s nice, but – “

Derek shuts him up by just looking at him. Like they don’t even need words to communicate anymore and that is just stupid, they’re not a married couple.

“No one knows us here,” Derek says and takes a step closer.

“I’m pretty sure they know you,” Stiles argues, “they just let you into this freaking apartment.”

Derek shrugs indifferently. “They don’t know you.”

Stiles can’t help but gulp loudly when Derek keeps approaching him, stepping closer and closer until he’s so close Stiles can reach out and touch him.

“Okay,” he says, “but I still don’t – “

“Yes you do,” Derek says. “You’re smart, Stiles, the smartest one in the family.”

“You’re forgetting Laura,” Stiles snorts.

“I’m not,” Derek ads and Stiles inhales sharply.

“Are you sure about this?” Stiles asks.

“I just drove us all the way out here, didn’t i?” Derek asks. “If… you don’t want this I can take you back. Say you think this is a bad idea and I’ll get Steve to bring the car – “

“Steve?” Stiles smirks.

“Stiles.”

“Right, sorry. I’m focused. Go on.”

Derek takes another step closer and Stiles stops breathing for a split second. “We have three days left.”

Stiles nods but doesn’t say anything.

“Do you want to spend them here with me?”

“Where no one knows us,” Stiles reasons as Derek takes yet another step closer, “and we can do exactly what we want.”

“Yes,” Derek hisses and his pupils are blown and Stiles realizes that the other boy is aroused. “Just like at the party.”

“What party are you – “

“Oh my god I will rip your throat out – “

“With your teeth, yeah, you mentioned,” Stiles smirks. Derek is so close he can almost feel his hot breath on his face. “Don’t do that.”

“What should I do instead then?”

“Kiss me.”

“Okay.”

\--

Stiles roles over and wraps an arm around the body next to him. Derek hums and allows Stiles to pull him closer. Stiles smiles against Derek’s naked shoulder and closes his eyes again. Outside the sun is rising. Inside the room smells of sex. The TV is still on in the living room. They never emptied the bathtub. Or removed the condoms either, now that he thinks about it. There’s a bottle of lube on the night table next to him and one in the kitchen. Probably standing right next to the half-eaten sandwich Stiles had been devouring before Derek decided to distract him with those amazing hands of his. He doesn’t have to look at the clock to know it’s long past midnight (because that was when they decided to watch the Dark Knight Rising but only made it ten minutes in before Stiles found something better to do with his mouth than hum along to the awesome music) and that’s good enough for Stiles.

He can stay in this bed with Derek pressed against him like this forever, he thinks. He inhales deeply and loves that he can actually smell himself on Derek however creepy that might sound (pretty fucking creepy he reasons but he doesn’t care).

He doesn’t fall back asleep but that’s okay. He listens to Derek’s slow and heavy breathing filling the otherwise completely silenced room and he wonders, not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, if he’s lucky or some ancient god hates him. He can’t decide if this – lying next to Derek like this – is a good thing or a terrible, horrible idea. There’s a thin line between ‘horrific’ and ‘terrific’ in this case and he’s walking on it.

Not that he cares. He could’ve told Derek to take him back and then what? Then they’d continued on as if nothing had happened, as if they aren’t madly in love with one another, as if they don’t know the taste of the other one’s skin, the sound he makes when he comes, the face he pulls when he kisses, the way his kiss lingers, the way his lips feels, the way his hands touch, the way his eyes look at you.

At least like this he can have a taste of something perfect for the last time before it’s pulled away right in front of him again.

It’s like being on a vacation from reality.

He leans in and kisses the other male on his forehead, then on his nose, his cheekbones, the corner of his mouth and his strong jawline. Then he sits nuzzles closer, rests his head on Derek’s shoulder and he doesn’t need to fall asleep because for the first time in a long while reality is better than any dream his imagination can create.

\--

Stiles pours himself a cup of strong coffee and leans against the kitchen counter. He watches Derek as the older male runs a hand through his dark hair and opens the fridge. He’s half-naked and beautiful. And for the time being, for the next forty-six hours, he’s all Stiles’.

“I can make pancakes.”

“Four for you, Derek Hale. You go, Derek Hale.”

Derek glares at him but Stiles just smirks and drink his coffee without breaking eye-contact.

“Let me rephrase that – “

“Please do so.”

“—I’m gonna make some fucking pancakes, do you want any?”

Stiles can’t help but laugh loudly and walk up to him. He leans his forehead against Derek’s back and hums as he trails his fingertips down the dreamy skin.

“Stiles,” Derek sighs but Stiles can hear the arousal even in just that little sigh.

“Pancakes,” Stiles says and kisses Derek’s neck, “sounds great.”

“I thought so.” Derek starts grabbing ingredients from the fridge and puts them out on the counter. “Was it two or three?” he mumbles absent-mindedly as he stares at the eggs.

“Sorry, what?” Stiles – who’d been distracted by Derek’s ass (yet again) – asks.

“Just thinking out loud,” Derek mumbles and waves his head dismissingly.

Stiles inhales so suddenly Derek turns around to check if he’s alright but all he sees is Stiles with wide and excited eyes and his fists clenched.

“What are you – “ Derek begins but is cut off:

“So honey now take me into your loving arms!” he shouts. Derek looks horrified but Stiles continues: “Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars. Oh darling, place your head on my beating heart.”

“What are you doing?” Derek shouts in attempt to drown out Stiles’ singing but sadly he has no such luck and the boy continues without missing a beat:

“I'm thinking out loud – “

“Oh you got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Maybe we found love right where we are, maybe we found love right where we are, maybe we found love right where we are, maybe we found…”

Derek smiles that smile again and Stiles’ voice fades out and he can’t stop staring at Derek for a moment. They just stand there, looking at one another, Derek smiling gently, Stiles probably with his mouth half-open. Derek takes his hand and kisses his knuckles, one by one, and Stiles is too stunned to do or say anything.

“Do continue,” Derek mumbles against his skin. “You were saying something about finding love right where we are?”

Stiles gulps but he can’t fight the grin and he smiles like a love-sick idiot at the older boy in front of him. “Yeah,” he whispers.

Then he grabs Derek by the neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

\--

“Remind me again why we’re out here?” Stiles protests as they pass by several bars and clubs.

“Because we can,” Derek says as he continues to walk straight by every bar and club with a fierce determination. Stiles doesn’t ask where they’re going. Frankly, he doesn’t give a shit. He wants to be back in their big apartment, eating pancakes, taking ridicules long showers together, fucking on the couch, on the kitchen counter, on the floor in front of those big ass windows –

“Here we go,” Derek says and cuts off Stiles trail of thoughts.

The younger boy groans as he follows his step brother into the bar.

“Why this place?” he asks as they sit down at the free table. It looks like any other bar to him but what does he knows?

“They don’t care how old you are,” Derek explains with a smirk before he gets up and orders two beers. He gives Stiles one and the boy immediately puts the bottle to his lips and tilts his head back.

“So, how long do we have to be here?” he asks.

Derek rolls his eyes.

“Look, I could think of a hundred better things we could do.”

Another eye roll.

“Fine,” Stiles groans. And then he hears it: “And darling I will be loving you 'til we're 70 and baby my heart could still fall as hard at 23. And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways, maybe just the touch of a hand. Oh me I fall in love with you every single day.”

“Oh my god,” he gasps and then he grabs Derek’s hands and the boy gives him a curious look before he notices the song and he groans.

Stiles beams when he pulls him out of his chair and towards the music.

“Stiles, this is bar people don’t fucking _dance_ – “

“Shut the crab up and grab my waist before I maim you to death,” Stiles threatens.

“Stiles, you are a hyperactive spass – “

“Derek!”

“Fine!”

He actually pulls Stiles closer just as Ed Sheeren continues his song: “When my hair's all but gone and my memory fades and the crowds don't remember my name, when my hands don't play the strings the same way, mm I know you will still love me the same.”

Stiles and Derek sway to the rhythm of the music and it’s awkward to say the least not to mention all the people watching them like they’re either very drunk or slightly insane.

Stiles couldn’t care less.

“This is stupid,” Derek growls, his entire face one big grimace of discomfort.

“Because we can,” Stiles reminds him in a low murmur. “Because we can, Derek.”

The older boy inhales sharply before he nods. People are still watching them when Ed hits the chorus once more and Stiles grins like a child and in a low tone of voice sings along: “I'm thinking out loud, maybe we found love right – “

Derek shuts him up with a firm kiss. Because he can.

\--

They sit in the living room eating nachos and watching the sunrise. They’re relatively quiet. Every now and again Stiles will comment on how Derek is eating all the cheese or Derek will tell Stiles to stop making obscene noises when he eats but other than that they’re both silent. They have to leave in five hours if they want to make it back to the apartment in time for Stiles to drive back to the arranged time. Five hours before they have to go back to being brothers and nothing else.

Stiles sighs and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he crawls on all for towards Derek and the boy just eyes him without saying anything, his mouth a thin line. Stiles intertwines his hands behind Derek’s neck and sits in his lap. Derek places his hands on Stiles’ strong hip bones and looks into his brown, mesmerizing eyes.

Stiles leans down slowly and kisses Derek. He lets his tongue touch Derek’s lower lip and Derek opens his mouth. Stiles’ fingers move from his neck to his thick, dark hair and he tilts his head back so he has better access to his throat. He kisses it before he licks a stripe from the collarbone to the jawline.

Derek’s fingers are under his thin shirt, all over his back, on his stomach, on his thighs. They find his nipples and squeezes gently causing Stiles to gasp against his skin. Derek groans and moves his fingers to Stiles’ shirt. He pulls at it and Stiles leans back so Derek can pull it off and throw it somewhere behind him.

Stiles immediately pulls Derek’s off as well and then he leans down and kisses Derek’s nipples. The older male gasps and groans as Stiles licks and bites carefully before he straightens his back and their eyes meet again. Derek kisses Stiles’ shoulder while Stiles runs his nails down Derek’s back, clawing at his perfect, flawless skin.

When it gets too much he starts moving his hips so his dick can grind against Derek’s. The older male gasps and tightens his grip on Stiles’ waist. Stiles leans forward and presses his chest against Derek’s, moving his hips and loving the little moans that escapes Derek’s mouth.

Derek suddenly pushes Stiles down on his back. Stiles wraps his legs around Derek and grabs his shoulders to pull him down for another long, heated kiss.

Derek sits back up and removes his pants. Stiles does the same and then Derek leans down and kisses him again and their dicks touch and Stiles moans loudly into Derek’s open mouth.

When Derek runs a finger over Stiles bruised lips the younger boy opens his mouth and sucks on the finger with a hungry look in his eyes. Derek licks his lips and grabs their dicks in one hand as he starts to stroke them both.

“Fuck,” Stiles says when he can’t physically keep quiet anymore.

Derek pushes the wet finger inside carefully and Stiles moans long and desperately. Derek moves the finger in and out slowly as he watches Stiles moan silently, his mouth hanging open and his eyes fluttering closed. Then he adds another one and stars scissoring his hole open.

“Derek, please,” Stiles gasps underneath him and the older male doesn’t need to be told twice. He finds a condom and some lube and pushes inside. Stiles gasps, Derek moans, the world stills for a second as if it’s holding its breath along with Stiles and Derek. And then they both start moving; Derek thrusts inside Stiles and Stiles pushes up to meet every thrust.

“Please, please, please,” Stiles begs but he isn’t even sure what for anymore.

“Stiles,” Derek whispers desperately against his younger stepbrother’s lips. “I love you. I love you so fucking much. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats over and over again like he’s a broken record, stuck on that same phrase to be repeated into oblivion.

And Stiles drinks every single word, every single time he utters that phrase, like an alcoholic tasting wine for the first time in decades. He drinks and drinks and he wants more, he needs more, he wants Derek, he needs Derek.

“I love you.”

“Fuck, I love you too. I love you too. I _fucking_ love you.”

\--

“There you go, Sir.”

“Thank you, Steve,” Derek says and takes the car keys.

“Did you have a good stay?” the guy asks.

“Splendid,” Derek says. “But, uh, let’s not tell my dad, shall we?”

The guy – Steve – smirks knowingly and nods. “Of course, sir.”

“Thank you,” Derek says and then he climbs into the car with Stiles who’s smirking like the devil.

“Is this something you do often? You should’ve seen the look on _Steve’s_ face.”

“Do I do what often?” Derek asks innocently.

Stiles snorts. “Take all your one night stands to your daddy’s impressive apartment?”

“A one night stand? I hardly think you can be clarified as a one night stand anymore.”

Stiles laughs because it’s too insane not to. “You’re probably right.”

Derek smirks and takes his hand as they drive back home. “No, I don’t,” Derek says. “Only you.”

“Only me what?”

“I’ve only taken you there.”

“Oh, no way, you should’ve seen Steve – “

“Laura is a big – “

“I do need you to finish that sentence actually.”

It’s Derek’s turn to laugh. When his laughter dies out he gives Stiles’ hand a squeeze. “Only you,” he repeats.

“Okay, okay, only me, jeez you’re such a sap,” but Stiles is smiling so hard it hurts his cheeks.

\--

The phone rings. Stiles closes his eyes as if he can pretend it isn’t ringing if he just isn’t looking at it.

“Stiles.”

“No,” he whines and buries his face against Derek’s chest.

“Stiles!”

“No!”

Derek sighs and grabs the phone. “Yeah?”  he answers. “Oh, hey Scotty. No, he’s in the bathroom. Yeah? Sure, I’ll tell him. Oh. Thanks but I – I got a shift soon so… Yeah, sure, see ya. Say hello to everyone from me. Thanks.”

Stiles still has his eyes closed and is still doing his best to pretend that the phone did not just ring. He succeeds until Derek kisses his head and pushes him off of him.

Stiles groans irritated but Derek just shakes his head and hands him his phone back. “That was Scott.”

“So I guessed,” Stiles pouts.

“It’s time to go home, princess.”

“Princess?”

Derek smirks and Stiles snorts.

“What else did he say?”

“Oh,” Derek says, “well, he just said I could come with you but I said that I, eh, had I shift because…”

“It’s okay,” Stiles mumbles and puts his hand on Derek’s jaw. “I understand.”

Derek smiles but it’s bitter and his eyes are colder. “I can’t be in the same room with you and not touch you or kiss you. Not yet.”

Stiles tries to smile but he can’t. “I know.”

He leans forward and presses his lips to Derek’s.

“You have to go,” Derek whispers against his lips.

“I know.”

They stay like that, lips barely even touching, their eyes closed for a long while before Stiles sighs and gets up. He quickly collects his stuff and throws it into his bag. Then he grabs his car keys and puts on his shoes. He tries not to look at Derek because he doesn’t think he can manage to leave if he does. With the hand on the door knob he says: “see ya later?”

Derek sighs from somewhere behind him and then moves. Not ten second later and a tender kiss is pressed against the top of Stiles’ spine. He shudders and leans back into the touch.

“See ya,” Derek whispers. He leans forward, puts his hand on the door knob as well and together they open it slowly.

The tears sting Stiles’ eyes but he refuses to cry. He isn’t going to freaking cry because he isn’t freaking sad. In fact he’s grateful that he got to spend sixteen day with his stepbrother and sunburns and sarcasm and everything else. He’s so freaking grateful.

“You’ve got to go,” Derek mumbles against his skin, “before I pull you back in and close the door and never lets you leave.”

“Creep,” Stiles whispers, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He inhales sharply and then he takes a step forward and out of the embrace and before he can think about it he is hurrying down the stairs, an unspoken “I love you” on his lips.

\--

He sits in his jeep outside of the house for about five minutes before he’s sure he can enter without crying. Then he grabs his bag and goes inside. Immediately he’s attacked by strong arms that wrap around him and pull him in for a tight hug.

“Scott!” Stiles whines as he returns the hug desperately. “Fuck, I missed you, buddy.”

“Yeah, I missed you too,” Scott whispers and tightens the hug.

“Stiles!” someone screams and they pull apart just as Isaac comes running down the stairs. He beams when he sees his older brother.

“Isaac!” Stiles shouts and lets the child run into his arms. “I missed you.”

“Missed you more,” Isaac says. “Where’s Derek?”

Stiles tries to smile but he isn’t sure he manages. “He had to work, buddy.”

“Crap,” Isaac exclaims.

“Isaac,” Melissa scolds as she enters from the living room. When she sees Stiles she breaks into a huge smile and she hugs him as well.

“Good vacation?” Stiles asks her.

“The best,” she says, “although we missed you guys terribly.”

Scott snorts. “They did not, you should’ve seen them when I picked them up in the airport,” he says. “They looked so disappointed to see me.”

Stiles laughs and lets Isaac climb onto his back as they all head for the living room.

“Oh, we did not look disappointed,” Melissa says.

In the living room Stiles finds his dad on the floor playing with the twins, Malia and Cora, while Laura and her new boyfriend Kenneth are looking at pictures in a photo album.

“Hey, my favorite people!” Stiles shouts.

“Stiles, Stiles!” the twins shout and run to him. When he’s done being assaulted by kids his father hugs him, tells him he missed him and then it’s Laura’s turn and finally Stiles takes Kenneth hand and shakes it as he introduces himself as “Stiles, the awesome brother I’m sure you’ve heard so much about by now.”

“Must be nice to be welcomed back home like that,” Kenneth laughs.

“Ah, what can I say, they all adore me,” Stiles laughs.

“It’s a great family you have,” Kenneth says and nods as if he’s admiring some house he’s build.

Stiles grins and watches his father help the twins build a tower with Legos. Next to them Scott is teaching Isaac the ‘puppy-dog-eyes’ and Melissa and Laura are looking at the photos, laughing loudly at something. Someone’s missing for the time being but that’s okay, Stiles reasons, because Derek will be back. And it will be okay. They’ll be okay. Because they have to.

Because they love each other. And because they love their family.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees, “it’s a fucking great family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, from the very beginning I knew the story wouldn't have a happily ever after ending. I hope this ending is still okay? I did my best. THIS IS NOT THE END! I will continue to write stories to this verse and maybe even another multi-chaptered fic about these two idiots. For the time being I've uploaded another story to this verse called 'Isaac Lahey Grows Up' and it features a bit of Sterek (a lot, actual) so I hope that makes it better. There will be more, I promise you, just not tonight. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, thank you for leaving kudos, thank you for your amazing comments! I love you all!

**Author's Note:**

> un-betaed and I'm sorry for the mistakes and typos!


End file.
